Before Eternity
by TheStoryGypsy
Summary: [prevamp DraculaOC] When Sophia and her family are threatened, she is forced to become the worst thing possible in her eyes: Prince Dracula's mistress. Preconceptions and habits hinder them at first but trials teach that love isn't always a fairytale.
1. Another Nightmare, or is it?

**YES! I'm FINALLY back to posting! LOL Okay, seriously, this story is my new 'pet', my 'baby' and I've been putting quite a bit of work into this for a while now. That is why I'm _so_ thrilled to get it on here! Anyways, lets get through the 'formalities' and then you can get to the first chapter. Oh, and do PLEASE read what is below before the chapter (or at least after, if you like what you read, whatever suits you), it has some important notes, blah blah blah…**

**Summary: This story takes place before Dracula's becomes a vampire, hence the name – _Before_ _Eternity_. He is the ruling Prince over Wallachia, including the little village of Tirgoviste…where Sophia Shevich lives. She's eighteen, has a natural, almost simplistic beauty about her, is very soft-spoken, gentle (probably one of the most in all OCs, _ever_), and enjoys the peace she gets from being outdoors. But with her tender personality comes the terrible flaw of her vast naivety and innocence. She also 'suffers' from dreams. Strange, dark and sometimes unfathomable dreams that she doesn't know where or how she gets the ideas for – she has just had them for years (you, dear reader, can probably grasp what they _foretell_). When she and her family are taken to the castle charged with long overdue taxes, she is forced to step up and offer herself in their stead, only problem is, she thinks she will be a maid or servant in the castle… _NOT _giving herself to be Prince Dracula's new mistress. Once she finds out though, the shock is hard to swallow, especially when she had heard the infamous stories about him and has _seen_ some of his 'handiwork'. Not to mention, Dracula already has one mistress, who, added to the mess, makes things much more complicated for everyone. Sophia and Dracula's relationship starts off rocky, and when things begin to clear up for them, there never ceases to be something to put a damper on it. Yet, one way or another, each time, they pull through. **

**Another note (since I feel it adds to the story but didn't want to put it in the summary): There will be, every so often, references and/or scenes with Dracula (Vlad the Impaler) _legends_. (NOT history! That means no long, lecturing reviews on how I'm historically inaccurate. I said _legends._ –ahem- Continue…) In fact, two major 'plot twists' will be based around two different legends. I'll probably let you know when I use one, even the smallest, because my goal is to make them sort of _my own_. **

**Rated T for: sensuality, suggestive situations, violence and mild language. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!!! If I DID, I would have multiple writers in the VH category writing a _prequel_ (you guys know who you are lol). **

**WHEW! Did I cover it all? If not, oh well! Okay… now, READ MY FIRST CHAPTER! (please) **

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_This was heaven. _

_Sophia knew it just had to be… dark surrounded her as if she were in the midnight sky, hazy like she were in the clouds and the mysterious and pleasurable anticipation that enveloped her senses was akin to what a falling star might feel while it made its freefall to earth. Oh yes, this was heaven and she felt she had been here many times before, only she wasn't quite sure where herewas, nor could she recall any former memories of the place. But that didn't trouble her, she was safe, happy; she was also waiting for something to happen, like whatever it was she could expect and craved, but even that, she was unsure of what. Then as if right on cue, it happened. _

_From behind her, strong, pale arms and large hands reached slowly around her sides and wrapped around her waist and chest. The long fingers were astonishingly cool as they pressed into the thin silk of her dress and yet the coolness was matched by her own skin. The arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her in until her partially bare back collided with something firm and perfectly sculpted: a man's chest. She relaxed into it, feeling no alarm that she didn't know who it was, for it was all too familiar and safe to be alarmed. An icy breath fell over her wavy, honey-colored hair that was scattered across her shoulders and a soft sigh left her lips. The hand that had been over her chest moved leisurely up, fingertips ever so slightly touching her neck then collarbone leaving lasting tingling sensations until they went about the task of gently gathering up wisps of her hair and then wrapping them behind the back of her neck so they would hang over her other shoulder. _

_She felt the icy caress again, this time closer and unblocked by her thick hair. It seemed like she was dizzy and lightheaded as that wonderful sense of anticipation washed over her again. Something soft and moist pressed into the bend of her neck and a light moan of euphoria escaped her lips; they were kisses and it felt like they were reverencing her flawless, alabaster skin. The hand that was pressed into her flat abdomen softly stroked over the silk of her nightgown, strengthening the sensations that were quickly heating her insides, while the idle fingers on the other hand ran down from her shoulder to her elbow to her wrist and then back up again, everywhere touching, her skin would crawl. _

_Soon what was the delicate kissing on her neck became more ardent and her skin reddened from the passions. There was the feeling of dull teeth nipping at her skin; it didn't frighten her when it turned rougher and the teeth sharper. Suddenly they broke the flesh, sending a brief, subtle pain through her body. She gasped but then it slipped into another rapturous moan, as the pain became pleasure. The scarlet liquid-life rushing through her veins, being pulled from her body through two small puncture wounds. It felt like she was melting away, a part of her becoming someone else's, no, not a part, all of her… and she was doing it willingly. After what was a blissful few minutes, the greedy mouth pulled away, leaving the wounds no more. _

_Sophia sighed heavily, coming only a little bit out of the daze she was in. Almost immediately, a hunger flooded her senses and her mouth started to water; whatever it was for, her existence was supported, fed by it. She turned into the possessive arms, which gave no resistance, until she was facing the broad chest and neck of her unknown 'lover'. They were very close and it felt so right that it didn't matter that she couldn't see his face clearly, only the raven hair that just touched his shoulders, the angle of his jaw and his pale oh-so-tempting neck… she was unsure what her carnal appetite was for but she knew she would find the quench there. _

_She bent her head down over the neck and began to place soft, unrestrained kisses on the unmarked skin, earning a low growl of pleasure from her 'lover'. There was a strange yet familiar sensation in her upper gums and before she knew it, she had pierced the skin and another aroused growl vibrated from that perfect chest she was turned to. A cool, thick, liquid substance pooled in her mouth and then slithered down her throat stating her hunger and worsening it at the same time. The taste was sweet, tangy and gently metallic. It was indescribably delicious, flooding all the senses at once. It was also foreign yet strangely familiar. In one word: addicting. _

_Something was slowly changing in her, what her 'lover' had taken of her; she was now taking of him. He was hers, as she was his. Both one in two bodies and it would be that way forever. Nothing could separate them… _

_Except… _

"Sophia, wake up!" Alina, her twelve-year-old, younger sister shouted.

Sophia's golden-brown eyes shot wide-open and as quick as reflex she sat up, parting from the intimate dream world and into the harsh reality that was her cool, drafty home along with the discontented thought that today would be just another day of the ordinary, cooking, cleaning, and milking that godforsaken cow. Oh did she hate that cow! It was her first job in the morning and her very least favorite. She wished she could cover her head and go back to sleep, to that wonderful dream she had been so rudely awaken from, but nagging responsibility and her sister –six years her junior- wouldn't let her do that.

"Sorry but I had to wake you," Alina said and Sophia sighed. She was right; she had no choice but to wake her so Sophia didn't really have the platform to be mad at her. "You were dreaming weren't you?"

"Oh… yes," she responded absentmindedly, getting out of her cot and passing her sister.

"Care to share?"

She glanced sidelong at Alina and could see the faint traces of a wry smile on her lips. "You _know_ that most of my dreams are dark, depressing and make no sense. And they worry you to death about me," she told her sounding unconcerned while using a comb to loosen the wavy hair fell to her shoulder blades that had become tousled in her sleep.

"But this one wasn't like you usual 'nightmares', was it?"

Sophia turned to the chest that was at the end of her cot and picked up her folded work-dress. "Since when did you become a soothsayer?" she teased, turning to face her sister who had a huge grin plastered on her face.

"It doesn't take a soothsayer to read facial expressions… or noises for that matter," Alina teased right back, earning a wide-eyed shocked look from Sophia.

"What was I doing?" she asked, keeping her voice calm but was slightly horrified.

"Well, for starters, you had this pleasant little smile on… then you started whimpering or moaning or something like that, it wasn't too loud to tell," her tone changed to imploring, "Oh do tell me what you were dreaming about!"

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Let me get dressed please," was all she said.

"But…"

Sophia shot her a gentle warning glance.

"Fine," Alina said, sighing in defeat and left the room for her to change.

Sophia shook her head and eased up because her sister was no longer there to question her, then began to change, as she did so, thoughts of that dream came flooding back and a small smile inched its way across her lips… though things about it still puzzled her. Who was the man in the dream? What were they doing? Why did she trust him so well? Why did she feel like that was where she belonged with every fiber of her being? But more importantly, why was that dream so drastically different from the dark and sinister ones she had been having for years?

She didn't think on it long, she had chores get to, so she headed out of the room with the naïve thought that today would be just another ordinary day…

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**So!?!? I want to know what you think! **

**Please review…and tell me what you liked so I can do more of it! **

**Constructive criticism IS welcome! Just make sure it isn't all just nitpicky, because I already have an AWESOME beta (Charmes Malhreureux- what have you gotten yourself into?!) and we are constantly going over my grammar, storyline, and stuff. So yeah, I know my weakness and I'm working on them. **

**LASTLY AND MOST IMPORTANTLY! If you flame me, I will think you are miserable, have no life, no friends and nothing better to do with your rotting brain or time. As punishment, you will be subjected to torment executed out by use of my laptop, creativity and vast amount of disgust for flamers! Is that UNDERSTOOD!? **

**To all those that do give nice reviews … I thank you ahead of time! **


	2. The Stranger Before Night

**Did everyone have a happy Easter?! I hope so. Mine was good.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! It means a freaking lot to me, I can't tell you all how much, especially because this story is new.**

**devil-she-cares: Thanks for reviewing! Here is your update. I hope you like it as well as the first.**

**Um, so there you go my lovely people. I wish there were more of you to THANK… maybe this chapter will win you guys over… -hint hint, nudge nudge-**

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The air was crisp and gently cool to Sophia as she stepped out of her quaint home. It was the middle of October, and the fall smell of parched leaves and damp ground filled her nose bringing a smile to her face. The green trees in her little village of Tirgoviste were beginning to turn colors – rustic browns, deep reds, and regal goldens. She began down the narrow lane, pulling her light shawl tighter around her shoulders.

It was almost dusk; this was her 'free time', the hour her busy mother graciously let her have away from the confines of home, to allow her gather her thoughts and release her worries. Sophia usually protested, declaring that she didn't need the time, still her mother always insisted. However, today Sophia welcomed it.

Letting all her life's troubles fall to the back of her mind, she began to play the dream in her head again. She figured just because she didn't understand it, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it. A faint hum found its way past her pleasantly curled lips and into the breeze. Her small, thin fingers played with her skirt while ever so many steps she would twirl in a circle, watching it billow out around her. The actions were very unlike her, if anyone had been watching, they would have thought her delirious… or in love.

She continued in her reverie until she got to her intended destination: the town fountain. The fountain itself wasn't anything special really; just like any regular fountain filled by a spring. What did make it special was the goblet that sat on its edge. Said goblet was made of solid gold and had the ruler's emblem stamped on it, that of an eerily watchful dragon. Supposedly, if anyone stole the valuable trinket he or she would be hunted down, the goblet confiscated, and then the thief killed by one of the numerous ways of the Prince's choosing.

So far, it had not been stolen.

Sophia sat on the fountain's edge, still lost in her daydreaming until the sound of a galloping horse caught her ears. She turned to see a graceful, black stallion moving towards her, kicking up dirt in its wake. A black-cloaked rider sat atop, flowing with the horse's movements. By the manner he rode and carried himself, she guessed he was a nobleman or a high-ranking officer… but couldn't tell for his hood was pulled low over his head. She got up from her seat, leaving a trailing hand on the fountain's edge as the mysterious rider neared, his horse slowing to a trot before stopping.

"Good evening my lord," she said as she dipped into a low curtsy, holding it momentarily then lifting herself up. He nodded in acknowledgement, the hood and darkening sky never betraying one of his features. "Would you care for a drink?" she offered him, after all, why else would he be at the fountain?

There was that discreet nod again, this time telling her 'yes' and she turned to fill the goblet. If she hadn't been preoccupied, she would have seen, by the setting sun, the glimmer of intent blue eyes and how they traced over her figure. She turned back and handed the goblet up to him, which he took, downing its entirety of clear water in seconds.

_He must have been riding for quite some time,_ she mused to herself, seeing how thirsty he was. The stranger then handed the goblet back to Sophia and she set it in its proper place.

"To who do I owe this pleasure to?" he asked, his voice deep and rich but his tone was hushed.

She smiled upon hearing the sound of his voice for the first time and answered, "Sophia Shevich."

"And is it right to guess that you have lived here all your life?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Ah… and what do you think of your Prince?"

Sophia paused to think before answering. The question was a double-edged sword and definitely one you wouldn't answer with an opinion. To say he was a cruel man and a bad leader would be dangerous, especially because she didn't know if this man was for the Prince. But to say that he was a good leader would be overlooking many of the ruthless things he did, even to his own people… though some of them _did_ view him as a savior from the Turks and others.

"Well," she went to answer. "I think that he does what he must and what he feels is best for the kingdom."

"Yes, of course, but do _you _have an opinion of him?"

She mentally winced, he wasn't giving up, but only confidence remained in her face. "I believe it hard to judge someone when you don't know them."

Her words, though serious, earned a rich chuckle and a brief clap from the stranger. "Well said! Well said!"

A beautiful smile formed on her lips but she was puzzled at what was so funny to him. There come a sudden rush of wind, chilling her all over and she pulled her shawl tighter. She instantly realized how very dark it had become how much and the temperature had gone down.

"I need to go, it's getting late," she told him.

"That is all right… it has been a pleasure," he said then he pulled the reins of the horse and kicked it in just the right manner so that it put its legs forward and bowed to her, even tossing its downward facing head.

She laughed and her vivid smile grew wider and brighter. At that, he nodded a farewell and rode off. She watched until he disappeared, concealed by the dark of night. That is when it hit her… he had never once given her his name.

_I will probably never know, _she thought, and then turned for home in a very strange mood.

Sophia arrived home in less than five minutes, although it took the rider an extra fifteen before reaching the castle stables, which was his destination. He rode in as the cloaked stranger but walked out, a prince.

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**Well, that one was short… they DO get longer. I promise. We are just in the 'introductions'…sorta. Heh. Did anyone catch the legend in there? Hm? Okay, just in case you didn't, it was totally the goblet at the fountain. I pretty much explained the story about it IN the chapter. Yup.**

**Anyways, please review! I REALLY appreciate them. **


	3. Noble Scheming

**Oh well, I was hoping to update sooner, but I had a bit of writer's block for chapter thirteen, and because I didn't finish it till the other night, I wasn't able to update (I TRY to write a chapter… then post… write a chapter… etc etc). For those of you who wanted an early update… I'm very sorry. And just so you know - I wanted to update too! But HOLY CRAP! Look at the response I got for my second chapter. OMG! To all my reviewers … I love you all! -happy tear- You all have all just…wow… been so supportive and kind. I hoped people would like this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it and, heh, it seems that it is working out that way. Anyways, enough … **

**Here chapter three… and a very good chapter if I do say so myself… lots of Draccy goodness… -sighs, with a glazed look in eyes- **

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"We caught three Turkish thieves in the marketplace today, the whole lot of them working to steal… and doing it quite efficiently if I might add," said the advisor, a tall, slim man with narrow eyes and a long nose.

Vladislaus Dracula stood in front of a cloudy window, his back to the man and hands clasped behind him in a noble fashion, that befitting of a Prince, which he, in fact, was. His hair was raven and typically pulled back in a clip (something he had done for as long as he could remember) except there were a few rebellious strands that dangled to his cheeks and chin. He had ever-watchful, piercing blue eyes and all his attire was in black – shirt, vest, pants, coat, all the way down to his military-styled boots.

Although he was a Prince, there wasn't anything blatant that would distinguish him as so; he abhorred the thought of a crown or any sort of headwear. He was fond of tradition but he was allowed to dislike something of it! The only thing that _did_ tell his status (not that anyone would doubt who he was) was a silver signet ring on his right hand that had been his father's. The seal was of a dragon, the family insignia since his father's name was Dracul, meaning _dragon_. His name, Dracula, in simple meant, _son _of the dragon.

There was a strange silence in the room as the advisor waited for the Prince to respond but he seemed to be in deep contemplation of something – he noticed he had been that way since he had come back from riding. What he would never know though, was that Dracula couldn't get that simple yet enthralling young woman he had met earlier that evening out of his head. Her unique brown eyes, so light and so different from most Romanian eyes that were very, very dark and her smile, that bright, beautiful smile she had freely and genuinely given him.

"My lord, we are keeping them in the dungeons as we speak," the advisor said again. "What would you have us do?"

Dracula shook his head as if coming out of his thoughts and turned to the man.

"Question them first, to make sure they are just thieves and not spies working for someone…you may use whatever means necessary, if they are spies, inform me immediately, if not… kill them anyways." He strode over behind his desk scattered with papers and took a seat in the large, wooden chair, comfortably and fittingly covered with black leather in the seat and back. "And remember to put them outside the village gates. I won't have thieves and damned Turks over running my country," he growled with a sudden loathing passion.

Just then, there was a light rap at the door…that knock was all too familiar to him.

"Yes?" he asked, though he already knew who it was and what they wanted.

"May I?" came a female voice, asking for entrance to the room.

He sighed. "Enter."

And in she swept, wearing a crimson, daringly cut yet redeeming opaque nightdress, with her _almost _black hair down, past her shoulders, ready for bed. Swiftly, she moved around his desk and sat on the armof his chair as if were her throne and the greatest entitlement was to sit beside him. Her name was Nedezda… she was his mistress. She had been given to Dracula by the sultan of Turkey as part of a peace offering between them. The now twenty-year-old had been a timid virgin when she was first brought to the castle about a year ago but it seemed time had worked its wonders.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

"Soon," he answered simply, looking up at the beautiful female perched beside him. No, she was _beyond_ beautiful. He would admit that. Her Middle Eastern blood gave her a tan complexion, her hazel eyes were in deep shades and although it was actually brunette, her hair looked black.

"Will that be tonight?" she joked lightly but there was a slight suggestiveness in her tone and eyes.

"When I'm finished here," he said, his very tone…flat. Business came before her little whims and even his own desires. "Why don't you go on, I'll be there later."

"I'm fine staying with you," she said. "If that's alright?"

He chuckled; she was so willing to please him. "That is quite alright my dear," the r's rolled off his tongue smoothly, making her skin crawl wildly, "but I thought I recall you saying that you found this business boring?"

She snaked her arm around his and took his hand in her own. "A small price," she mumbled, playing with the cuff of his shirt and examining his long, pale hands. He diverted his attention from her to his advisor who was now turned away, rightfully giving them their time. Dracula cleared his throat and the man looked up.

"Continue," he ordered, with a motion from his one free hand that wasn't being pinned and lavished in innocent adorations from his mistress.

"Well… um…" the advisor stuttered, unsure where to begin again. "There wasn't much else that happened today my lord, it was pretty uneventful… but there are a few outstanding tax debtors that need to be taken care of." He held up the paper with a list. Every case was ordered to be brought before the Prince, heard and then signed off by him before action could be taken place. It assured him that he knew what was going on at all times in his kingdom, which was the way he liked things.

"Go on," said Dracula.

The advisor then began to read off the list, each debtor's last name, how much they owe, and for how long. After only a few cases, Dracula intentionally tuned out the droning voice of his advisor, watching as his mistress played with his hands. She seemed fascinated by everything about them, the length of his fingers, their calloused tips, the battle scars that marred the top of his hand and palm; she turned it over and back again still examining it, sometimes comparing the length with her own small hand, and every so often pressing his fingertips to her full lips. He could never understand why she found such fascination in his hands but he knew enough to know those silly gestures meant more than just a simple fancy; it was something deeper, an obsession. He had her wrapped around his finger… literally.

Suddenly, a familiar word caught his ear.

"Say that again." His eyes shifted up.

"Hm?" The advisor looked up from the page. "Say what?"

"The last name that you just read, what was it?"

"Shevich?"

"Yes…" he said to himself then repeated the name.

"What is it, my lord?" asked Nedezda, wanting to know exactly what interested him and why.

He ignored her and asked the advisor, "Is there any other families that have that name?"

The man tapped his thin lips with his finger, thinking. "I believe they are the only one… but I'm not positive. I could check for you, if you wish?"

"No, I do not believe that will be necessary. " Dracula reclined in his chair more, rubbing his chin with his index finger, looking contemplative but was really scheming.

What would the chances be that the beautiful you woman from the village fountain belong to that same family? If so, would she be the daughter… or the wife? It wasn't uncommon for girls to get married even in their early teens and he guessed that she was somewhere between sixteen and twenty, it would make perfect sense that someone like her would already be taken. Although, she acted so free, so unlike any wife he had met or seen and there _were _those rare girls that stayed home for a long time before marriage…could it be possible? There was only one way to find out…

"I want you to bring the… _whole_ family here," said Dracula.

"Family? All of them?" the advisor questioned, making sure he understood correctly. "But, my lord, we don't usually bring the whole-" He was silenced by the very stern expression on Dracula's face. "I will see to it, my liege."

"Good. First thing in the morning, before the sun rises… and make sure they _all _come. Every member of the family."

The advisor nodded.

"Why," asked Nedezda again, still curious and refusing to be ignored.

Dracula lightly chuckled off her question. "Boring business, darling. Nothing more." She sighed dramatically, not quite convinced but didn't press the matter. "You look tired," he said. "And you have no intention of leaving this room without me, do you?" A sly smile formed on her lips and she shook her head. "Of course not," he said. Even at the corner of his lips sat a discrete smirk. With that, he stood up and closed with the advisor in a simple word, "Tomorrow."

The man knew enough not to protest, so he nodded and began gathering up his papers.

Dracula strode for the door and to leave the room. "Come along," he said to his mistress… but the words were pointless because she was already bright-eyed and at his heels.

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**Oh, FYI my good peoples, the name _Nedezda_ is totally a real name. Yup. I thought it sounded bride-ish, which is why I picked it. She sort of has some of the brides' traits, all rolled into one, but mostly Aleera's… later on you will see why. Yeah, I'm pretty darn proud of this chapter… but 'tis a pity I didn't have muse helping me with it then it would have been so much better. I mean, yeah Dracula pops in every once in a while to help out with a review here and there… but he doesn't stay very long. -sigh- So it looks like I'm going to go on a quest for a more… er… more loyal muse. While I do… **

**Review my lovely darlings!**


	4. A Sudden Sacrifice

**AHHH! It's been FOREVER since I updated! And for that I am sorry!!! It not that I haven't been writing, because I have, it's just the emails not working a few weeks ago were the first problem, and then life got in the way (blah. Life, who hates it? jk Ew, I sound like a recluse), then things spiraled downhill from there. I hope that I've still got most of my readers, if not, it would just tear my wittle heart into a thousand pieces. Well, maybe not that extreme, but I would be sad. Anyhoo, I'm back… **

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Sophia attempted to focus her tired eyes in the darkness of the early morning hours, the time when the sun had yet to raise its bright head. Her mother had just waked her and she knew something was very wrong this time by her words and tone of voice.

"What do you mean by 'they are going to take us to the castle'? Who are 'they'?" Sophia asked.

"_They_ are castle guards, and they are outside about the taxes. We don't need to keep them waiting. Wake your sister then get dressed. I must go talk with your father," she answered, then turned on her heels and headed for the door.

"Mother…" Sophia called to her softly.

The woman stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"What will happen to us?"

Try as she might, her mother could not veil the worry in her face as she answered, "I don't know, Sophia. I don't know."

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Apprehension, dread, fear – the words were the closest to sum up Sophia's feelings, yet none of them were truly strong enough. As she was led through the long, stone halls of the castle, tension mounted to just about unbearable, and she did her best to distract her mind by looking at the things around her. Huge mirrors, elegant vases, fine paintings, and realistic statues were just some of the main décor, along with suits of armor, gleaming weapons and animal skins. Tapestries and rugs seemed to be what was decorated with the most though, and they all looked lavish and elaborately done, like nothing Sophia had ever seen in her life. The sheer size of the castle gave the feel that no one was around, but there were carrying voices seeming to come from everywhere. She could have easily been lost in the bliss, imagining herself to be royalty of some kind… if it weren't for the four huge heavily armed guards with clanking armor that surrounded them as they walked, or the sense of impending doom.

"What do you think they will do?" her sister asked suddenly, while tightly clinging to her arm.

"Alina, I'm not sure," she answered.

"Do you think we will see the Prince?"

Sophia grimaced then whispered, "I hope not."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? You and I have both heard the stories; we both have _seen _what he did tothe unlawful Turks outside the village gates…. Don't be so ignorant."

Sophia didn't usually talk to her sister like that but at the time, she was under a lot of stress and unknowingly became ill tempered with her trivial questions.

Even though Alina knew this, she persisted, "But what about the _other _stories? You know…"

Sophia shot her a skeptical glance.

"You know the ones about how handsome he is supposed to be, don't you wonder?"

"No, I don't. All I want is to get out of here with everyone all right and still have a house to go home too. Besides, it's as they say, 'beauty differs to each beholder's eye.'"

"I know. But they say his hair is darker than a new moon's night and that he has _blue_ eyes like the sea. They also say that he fights and rides like no other man before."

"That's because he _is_ the Prince, of course he will. Where do you get these things anyway?"

"The girls in the village… just the other day they were talking that he is supposed to only have one mistress but in fact he has many others… many, many others." Alina giggled. "That, and they were saying that he is supposedly good in b–"

"Alina," she scolded, nodding towards their parents barely three feet in front of them. Luckily, they were unaware of the conversation. "You shouldn't say things like that and you really shouldn't listen to girls like that either, they will get you into…" her lecture trailed off when she saw they had stopped moving and were now standing in front of two enormous wooden doors.

The guards were muttering between themselves and she strained to hear what they were saying, but to no avail. Nervousness began to pool in the pit of her stomach. What could possibly be beyond the doors? What fate awaited them? It was most likely her worst nightmare…

After a few nods were exchanged, three of the four guards took their former positions and the one pushed the doors open. Sophia and her family were led into a large hall. Her jaw went slack and she turned three shades paler when she saw whom they had to face – the prince.

He sat in a bulky, tall-backed throne and appeared completely poised and unmovable. His expression was cold, hard, stern, like chiseled marble, with a slightly arrogant curl to his lips, and a searing look in his blue eyes that could bring anyone to their knees. If it weren't for his hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, he would look nearly unreal, made of unfeeling stone. Beside him was a smaller, more elegant throne, but it was empty. While gathered around him were little over a handful of advisors, servants, and the such.

The guards parted leaving them alone and vulnerable to the Prince's gaze. Bravely, Sophia's father moved closer to the throne, his family following right behind him in his footsteps. When he was about three yards from the Prince, he stopped, and then dropped to his knees. Sophia, her sister and mother, followed in the same manner. They all knew being called to face the Prince himself was not something that happened often and usually the outcome far from pretty. There would have to be a lot humbling on their part, and more than likely, a lot of pleading too.

"My lord," said Sophia's father respectfully.

The Prince's kept his face emotionless, as he knew he had to be, though he really wanted to smirk in triumph. He had guessed right; she was from that family. At the moment, she kneeled in the back, the farthest from him, but he could see her honey-brunette hair and bright eyes peering up at him from under her brows. Just a glance at her and something stirred within him. He would play a cunning game for a valuable prize… she would be his. He would make sure of it.

He raised his head higher before speaking, "Do you know why you have been brought before me?"

"The matter of taxes, my lord," Sophia's father answered.

Dracula rose from his seat and stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back in a relaxed yet formal position as he towered above the older man. "And what about the taxes?"

"They are… late."

"Yes, they are. Dreadfully late. As a matter of fact, I believe it's by a few months. Care to try and enlighten me on why?"

"My lord, we haven't the money to pay them."

"Of course you haven't." He chuckled. "And yet, how is it that everyone else can manage the meager amount that I ask, but you are so impoverished as to think you are exempt? You don't look poor, nor do you look starving."

"I am a carpenter; people don't need them as they do tailors and farmers. I didn't want my family to starve. We live on simple means, nothing any bit elaborate."

"Ah yes, we have searched your home," Dracula stated nonchalantly. To his delight, he caught a brief glimpse of the horror on Sophia's face. "Sadly, it seems you are correct. You own no possessions of value but that still doesn't settle the debt you owe me." He put his fingers together to form a steeple and began to walk around them, slowly, one foot in front of the other, taking his time. His air – menacing.

"Perhaps, my lord, we can pay it over some time?" Sophia's father tried. Things were beginning to look bleak for his family.

"I doubt it. Do you know what we do to people that do not and cannot pay the taxes?" By now, Dracula was striding past Sophia and she held back a shutter.

"You lock them in prison?" the man tried, although he knew it wouldn't be the answer.

The Prince chuckled darkly. "No. You see I don't particularly care for poor people and families; they take but have nothing to offer in return. They are of no benefit to the country. Usually we just…" he strode back in front of his throne, "kill them."

"But my Lor-"

"Guards!" he ordered the armed men near him. "Get them out of my sight!" He motioned away with his hand and sat back down, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair and massaging just above the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

It seemed a whirlwind to Sophia what happened next as the guards violently grabbed them by the arms and wrists, yanking them to their feet. Alina began to shriek and her mother tried in a useless attempt to calm the girl. Her father looked dumbfounded and completely unsure what to do. While to poor Sophia time stood still and the world seemed to spiral out of control. The guards yanked brutishly at her wrists, bruising them almost instantly and tears sprung to her eyes. Her head throbbed as they pushed her forwards, towards the doors, this time her family would be following behind.

Her father, despite the struggle with the guards, managed to turn facing the Prince, shouting, "No! No! Please don't do this! My wife and daughters are innocent! Take me in their stead! Just don't hurt them! Them are innocent!"

Dracula laughed, the sound so wicked. "Old man, how many times must I tell you that you have nothing of value?" He rose from his seat again, causing the guards to halt in their tracks, and moved towards the family. "But still, you persist. I must admit, though, when I said you own nothing of value, I meant objects, possessions, but there _is_ something here that could be considered of very high value. " He was getting closer to Sophia whose heart was going at a maddening pace. "Something that if I obtain…" he began to circle her like prey just within grasp, "could spare _each _and _every _one of you," he stopped before her, "…from death."

His gaze so intent, so impure, that Sophia blanched and immediately lowered her head in respect and to avoid his eyes. She knew he was blatantly suggesting that he wanted her, but what she didn't understand was _why_? She wasn't anything special in her own eyes. What could he possibly want her for? _Unless he wants me to be a servant or maid, _she thought in partial naivety and in part not willing to accept the truth. _Yes, of course, that has to be it. _

"You… wa-want me to trade my daughter in our stead?" her father asked, shocked. Concern was on his face and even more in his mind.

"Yes," was Dracula's casual reply. He shifted his eyes from Sophia to watch her parents' response.

"But she's our eldest daughter," her mother pleaded, her voice quaking. "Please, anything but her…"

The prince snarled. "You have nothing. It is this or death."

Sophia trembled. What choice did she have? None. She and her family would die if she didn't. There was no way she could let that happen from fear. Fear of being in his castle, seeing the things that happened there first hand, being under _his_ command and control…. No, she wouldn't fall trap to fear. She would be strong… she had to be.

"Mother, father…" she turned to them, "I… I can do this. I can. We… _I_ don't have a choice." She was trying to stay strong but it was hard watching her sister burst into tears.

"I know," her mother said, stroking Alina's hair trying to calm her… for Sophia's sake.

Sophia turned to her father; he looked grave, years older almost. He smiled faintly and gave her an understanding nod. She could swear there was an amount of respect, thankfulness in it. Finally, she looked back at the Prince and softly sighed. Closing her eyes, she dropped gracefully on her knees before him.

"My lord, I willingly put myself in your hands, so long as you spare my family."

"Good. I will, as I keep my word." He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. "Stand and say your goodbyes," he said coldly.

She rose and at once, her sister threw her arms around her and sobbed.

"Alina," she rubbed the girl's back, "calm down, you must calm down. Everything will be fine. _I'm_ going to be fine. I promise. You're going to have to be strong and help mother now, understand?"

Alina sniffed hard and nodded, before unwillingly backing away, allowing her parents their chance.

Sophia's father came up and took her face in his hands. "You are strong. You always have been. I love you, you know this."

\

"I do. I love you too," was all she could muster as her father hugged her tightly then let go.

Lastly, it was her mother's turn. Sophia could tell she was struggling to hold back tears and just seeing that forced Sophia to look away, blinking so she wouldn't cry. "Mother, please…"

"I know," she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. "It's just…you're my little girl…"

"Mother…"

"Shush, I know, but it's hard for me." She took her by the shoulders. "One day, if you ever must give up a child, you will understand, but I hope that you never see that day. I will pray for you, every night, and every morning and… oh, I'm going to miss you so…" She threw her arms around the girl and clung tight to her.

Sophia forced a laugh, trying to lighten the air. "I'm not dying! I will likely be a servant or something. I will be _fine_."

"I pray so," her mother mumbled, her daughter's blissful innocence only making things worse for her. She hated to think how such a beautiful thing would probably be ruined.

"I love you," Sophia said.

Her mother took Sophia's face in her hands and kissed her forehead and cheeks repeatedly. "I love you too," she finally said, her voice low with grief and anxiety filling it.

Sophia reluctantly drew away. Things were becoming too hard for her, any longer and she would not be able to go through with it. She turned to the Prince; her eyes unwillingly giving him the silent consent he needed to send them away.

"Guards," he said, "take these people outside the gates and let them go free… completely unharmed."

With tear-filled eyes, Sophia watched as they lead her family out. She forced herself to look away as they left through the doors, the thought that she might not seem them again rushing through her mind. She choked back tears.

Dracula moved over to a young, female servant standing nearby, his eyes fixed on Sophia as he spoke in a low tone, "Oversee that she gets cleaned up, a new dress, and a _permanent_ room in the east wing."

"The _east _wing, my lord?" the young woman made sure she understood correctly what the Prince was asking.

"Yes," said Dracula. "The east wing."

The servant nodded, understanding fully what was happening, what was being asked of her, and how much turmoil it would bring the castle. She went over to the Sophia, who was all but trembling in shock, sorrow and fear.

"Miss, you must follow me," the servant said before hurrying out the doors.

Sophia took a deep breath. _You are going to be fine, _she reassured herself, and quickly followed the servant, giving the Prince one last fleeting look as she was leaving.

She could have sworn he was smirking.

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**Yeah, so that was it. Honestly, it is my least favorite thing I've written so far, and I've edited like a thousand times… give or take a few hundred (lol)… and I'm still not too happy with it. But at least from here the ball really starts rolling with the story. Oh, you know what makes my week? **

**REVIEWS! **

**Oh yes, they do. They make me all happy and giddy! So you guys go ahead and make my week! **


	5. Naiveté and the Appalling Truth

'**ello poppets! In honor of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End opening TONIGHT (!!!) for your entertainment and reading pleasure, I will do this author's note in pirate talk, or something close to it… **_**savvy**_**? (this is for a laugh, don't take it seriously…) **

**Now, mateys, I never grow ill with hearin' your tributes 'n' commends…and I'm **_**inclined**_** to enjoy your high-toned and fancy reviews and the like of such new****recruits (a.k.a: new reviewers). It does me heart good like a fine keg of rum after a long days work of… commandeering. Aye, **_**commandeering**_**… a boat, er, **_**ship**_**… and one that seems 'a little superfluous really.' They say, 'treasure is not all silver and gold, mate' – from the mouth of the infamous Captain Jack himself – and it runs straight and true (I get bonus points for using that line from AWE) for I have the honor of being blessed with your faithful 'tributes.' **

**I would like to take the opportune moment and say to Nienna Silmarwen - who took some of her time to edit this chapter and the next: I think we've all arrived at a very special place, spiritually, ecumenically… **_**grammatically**_**. Why, thank you! –puts Barbossa accent on that last sentence- **

**Wind in the sails… I mean, **_**yes**_**, I knows your heart is just 'thump thump'-ing for a good ol' chapter with that 'eg-re-gious' Dracula (haha, more points for getting another AWE line) and the saucy little maid Sophia (maybe not the best words for her)… but alas, 'tis not the case with this one. Only poppet Sophia, and no Dracula… but there is development purpose to it all, savvy? Oh bugger… that monkey has got me hat… be back when ye finished readin'… **

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The obviously Turkish servant – who was barely older than Sophia – didn't utter a word as she led her down yet another long passage. It was silence for the most part, that was, until Sophia broke it.

"Where are you taking me?" was her question, her words colored with nervousness.

The servant glanced back briefly. "The east wing."

Sophia swallowed hard. She wondered what it was going to be like, being the Prince Dracula's servant; what jobs she would be forced to do and the conditions of which she would be living, and working for that matter. Whether she would be a maid, shuffling around in the shadows, never to be seen. Or one of those that was attending him, being there for his casual whim. If she had a choice, she favored the former.

"What are we going to do when we get there?" she asked.

"Well, first we're going to get you cleaned up, after that we'll find you a proper dress, and then I'll show you to your room."

"That is all?"

"Yes, until I get further orders."

Sophia furrowed her brow, deciding to cease in her questioning; she didn't want to be irritating.

After seemingly thousands of doors and multiple halls, she began to notice there was something different about where they were. The air had a fresher, open-air scent, almost floral even, and the wall hangings along with the rugs were progressively becoming more feminine in design and color. They strode right by a small table with a vase full of white roses on it and she thought it strange. Where they _came_ from the walls had been decorated with weapons and suits of armor ominously peering back at the individual passing by, but not here.

The servant must have caught the look on Sophia's face. "This is the east wing," she said.

"Oh," was all that came out of Sophia's mouth, the sheer beauty of everything around her was mesmerizing.

"The Prince's mistress; this is her side of the castle."

Sophia's jaw dropped. "The whole east wing is hers?"

The young woman refrained from saying _"or was"_ and settled with the explanation, "The castle is quite large and the Prince enjoys lavishing her." She lowered her voice, "But to be honest, and you didn't hear this from me, but everyone thinks he does it to keep her far enough away when he doesn't want to deal with her demands and emotional fits, and heaven knows her monthlies!"

A laugh rose in Sophia's throat and she clamped a hand down over her mouth to keep it from escaping. The servant just smiled then opened a door from the main hall, letting her enter the room first. Once inside, the amusement on Sophia's face turned to awe.

The room had an amazingly smooth-looking stone floor and Roman columns surrounding the most beautiful and strange thing she had ever seen: a sea of roses. There were reds, whites, and pinks, making a dense sheet in the midst of the floor.

Sophia moved in to get a closer look. "What is it? It's beautiful…"

"It's a bath."

"What do you mean?" she asked in disbelief. "It can't possibly-"

"Yes it is," the young woman replied, moving across the room to a table that had towels, sea sponges and such on it. "See for yourself."

With child-like interest and hesitancy, Sophia went to the edge and slipped her foot out of her worn shoe before lifting her skirt and dipping her toes into the water. The temperature was surprising on her cold toes and she almost gasped in surprise.

"It's warm," she mumbled, raising her toes out of the water to see that some of the rose petals had clung to her wet skin.

"It is heated underground," the servant explained as she set down a silk robe and cotton towels by the water's edge. "There is soap enough in the water and here are some towels. I will give you all the time you need, Miss. When you are done I will be in the other room."

With that, the servant nodded to Sophia and left through a different door an adjacent room.

Sophia could not understand why the young woman was treating her with so much respect; her status was the same as Sophia's… in reality, they may soon be alongside each other! There was something very strange about what was going on… she decided not to dwell on it.

Quickly, she changed out of her clothes and slipped into the warm, foreign comfort of such an extravagant bath. The rippling water sent the petals drifting and dancing on the surface, while roses and clean soap filled her nose and her work-weary muscles relaxed. All uneasiness seemed to melt away. She wished she never had to get out, but before she knew it, her fingers and toes were beginning to prune up, telling her it was time.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she pulled herself out of the water and then dried off. She noticed her skin and hair had a strong fragrance of roses and that she had never felt so clean before. All of her life she had taken most baths in a small, metal bucket with cold water and a rag, so the feeling she had was unusual.

Finally, she wrapped herself up in the silk robe that had been provided for her and then left for the other room.

"That was quick," the servant said when she entered.

"I was clean enough and I didn't want to leave you waiting," said Sophia with an apparent care for others beside herself.

The woman flashed her a perplexed look but it was fleeting. "Come… sit," she said, motioning to the chair from which she had risen.

Sophia did as she was told. The young woman then began to comb her damp hair, loosening the slight tangles and making it smooth, before winding strands around strips of cotton that made simple, but effective, rag-curlers. The goal was, when her hair dried, for it to fall in full curls. Fifteen minutes passed by in sheer silence with barely even a quarter of Sophia's hair done and she realized it would be all up to her to initiate any sort of conversation…again.

"What is your name?" Sophia asked.

The young woman paused, almost in shock that she even cared then answered, "Mary."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen."

Sophia came so close to whipping her head around but then remembered she could not, not without yanking her hair out of the woman's hands. "You are the same age as me!"

Mary smiled faintly but did not respond.

"How long have you been working here?" Sophia asked.

"For as long as I can remember," her voice was quiet and careful.

"Where are your parents?"

There was no answer, followed by a long, awkward silence. Sophia made a guess that it was a touchy subject.

"Um…" she tried, unsure where to begin again. "So why are you doing all this? The bath… my hair."

"Because the Prince wishes it."

"Yes, but why so elaborate?"

The young woman looked Sophia in the eyes. "Because in court, those seen with and highly favored by the Prince do not go around looking, I dare say, like commoners…even behind closed doors. You see, it is a sort of game between royalty and sometimes the wealthy. Whoever has the most… wins. It is an unspoken competition and it is played, for the most part, by the court; the way they dress and act, everything else is in possessions. You, with all due respect, Miss, are now another pawn in the Prince's game… and he has not lost yet."

"So… you are saying that by the end of the day I will be wearing silk and beaded dresses?" her tone had light-hearted sarcasm. Still, she had not clued in to what her role would be in the castle.

"Of course," Mary said very seriously.

Sophia blinked then spoke up, "I can't work in silk! I'd ruin it!"

"Work?" asked the young woman, who had a half-disgusted, half-curious look plastered across her face.

"Yes, work!" Sophia cried. "Do servants do other things in the castle?!"

Mary's jaw dropped and she furrowed her thin brows. "Do you know why you are here?" she asked.

"To be a servant," answered Sophia. "Why?"

Mary rubbed her forehead. "That explains it," she mumbled to herself while shaking her head.

"What?" Sophia asked clearly perplexed.

"Miss," Mary started slowly, fearing the words would put Sophia in a daze, to which she would soon find she was right, "the Prince doesn't want you as his servant… he wants you as his _mistress_."

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**I know, you are saying, "But WHY is the **_**chapter**_** gone?" Perhaps, if I get a lot of your reviews, I might update in a few days, savvy?**

**Reviews? I LOVE reviews! DRINKS ALL AROUND! Oh, and I'm disinclined to acquiesce to flames! **

**All right, I'm done… and I REALLY enjoyed writing this A/N (I think I pulled in nearly twenty lines/phrases/words from the POTC movies) took me a while, but it was fun. So don't rain on my parade… it was only for a laugh! But I'm not going to leave you without a little POTC wisdom: it is remarkable how often genius and madness coincide. **


	6. Dinner and an After Dinner Treat

**Hi everyone!!! Sorry, this review will not be in pirate talk, but I think you'll live. lol Anyway, since you all reviewed me so freaking soon! I bet that means you want an early update, right? Well, you can't have it. This is just a figment of your imagination. You can just click off this screen and act as if it never happened… Kidding! But of course you knew that already. :D **

**So, I saw At World's End in a pre-showing the other night and as much as I would love to talk about everything I liked and hated about it, I'm not going to spill it for those of you who haven't seen it. All I'm going to say is that, I personally liked it better than the second (of course not as good as the first)… but the ending seemed… unfair. Yeah. That's the word I'm going to use. Well, look at it this way: it opens a door for one character pairing for fanfiction, and nearly _slams_ the door for another. Heh heh. Oh oh! And if you HAVEN'T seen the movie, make sure you stay _after_ the credits.**

**Okay, here is the chapter… enjoy it!**

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At the head of a long table, Dracula reclined in a sturdy chair; his long fingers rhythmically strummed the dark wood and his bright gaze rested unfocused on a wall.

It was dinnertime and he was thinking over the success of that morning for it couldn't have gone any better in his eyes; the entire day his step had carried a confident enthusiasm. And yet, where his mind should have lingered on his success, it strayed to the pair of striking caramel-brown eyes he had looked into the night before. Today, Sophia had gone from an ordinary peasant to becoming one of the most entitled women in the country and he couldn't help but wonder how she would undertake her transformation, both visually and mentally. What would she look like? How would she act?

Curiosity was eating away at him, which was why he had sent a request for her presence over dinner. He had only been waiting a few minutes when the low groan of door hinges reached his ears and he turned in the direction of the sound.

Sophia entered, carrying herself with poise and grace; however the high color in her cheeks betrayed her unease. Her eyes connected with his and she inhaled sharply, not expecting him to be there waiting.

He stood and took in her apparent change, her glistening honey curls, to her light eyes, soft lips and fair radiant skin, to the pale-pink silk dress that clung to her curves in just the right places then fell to the floor elegantly – all this he noticed in the seconds before Sophia dropped into a curtsy.

With hesitance, she rose, her eyes falling on him again as he moved closer. She felt as if her stomach had suddenly turned over as a chill ran up her spine so strongly that she had to hold back the shudder it created. He was different then she recalled; his expression wasn't nearly as stern but simply formal, his eyes were an especially intense shade of blue in the dim light, and those stubborn strands of black silk that fell to his cheekbones and jaw merely accented his already striking face even more.

Both had changed in appearance to one another and it took a second for it to sink in… but to each it felt like a second too long.

"Good evening," Dracula said, recovering gracefully from the awkward silence before offering his hand, palm upward, to Sophia.

She gave him a small, nervous smile and placed her hand in his, which he lifted to his lips then kissed her knuckles, lingering for more than just a traditional act of respect. Something about the way he did made Sophia weak in the knees.

When he lowered her hand from his lips, he didn't let go of it but rather led her to the chair beside his where she sat and he did the same, their eyes locked the entire time, not from attraction but instead to measure each other, almost as if doing so would give away subtle hints of their personalities.

"You look beautiful," he said, forcing a light color to Sophia's cheeks, silently encouraging him on. "I've seen many queens, princesses and the like throughout most of the civilized world, but no amount of perfume, soap, fine clothing and jewelry could make them as beautiful as you are right now."

Sophia blushed a darker crimson then looked down at her hands in her lap, still not speaking a word. His comments sounded flattering to say the least but she knew they were a sugarcoated poison. He was a charmer – she knew that from the stories but she also knew that he was ruthless and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, not allowing anything or anyone to stand in his way. She had to play cautiously around him for she didn't want to lead him on anymore than she already unintentionally had. The goal was simple: get by without becoming familiar with his bed that night.

"How was your first day in the castle?" Dracula inquired, trying to coax her honeysweet voice past her lips. He hadn't heard it since, well, last night but all night and all day it had been dancing in his head and he yearned to hear it from her own lips extremely bad.

"It was… good," she answered quietly.

"Was your room to your standards?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is well beyond them… although I wasn't able to get much of a good look. Mary was in a hurry to show me everything," she said before giving him a small smile.

He chuckled. "Well, everything in the east wing is yours now, you can explore it freely and whenever you wish. Just remember… the north wing is mine, you are allowed to go there, of course, however my room and study are _only_ to be entered if I give you permission or you knock and I allow you entrance. Understood?" She nodded briskly. "Good. So you enjoy the servant's company?"

"Mary? Yes, well, I suppose so. I spent the whole day with her, although she is very quiet. "

"She has always been a quiet one, but she seems to be loyal enough, I haven't had any problems from her as of yet. If you wish, she can be your personal servant… would that suit you?"

"Yes, that's fine but I don't want to think of her as a servant," Sophia answered then looked away as if in thought before giving an airy laugh, her eyes twinkling in the candle light. "Maybe if she and I were closer and we trusted each other then she would be willing to talk more…"

Dracula's crystalline blue orbs examined Sophia's facial features while she had become suddenly lost in her unselfish and caring thought. He loved the way she bit her bottom lip ever so gently and the way the color brightened in her cheeks; he couldn't help feeling a strange emotion from deep within him, wishing that she were making that beautiful face while thinking of him.

"Hopefully, she will not be the only one you get closer to and learn to trust," he remarked suggestively, wondering what her reaction would be.

Sophia's lips parted, inhaling through her mouth and she glanced over at his _very_ serious face, understanding written in her newly dulled eyes along with a streak of fear and slight alarm.

He picked up his goblet filled with a well-aged wine and took a leisurely sip. It was at this time Sophia found the chance to break eye contact with him, which came as a huge relief to her. There was something about his eyes that unnerved her; whenever he looked at her, even just a glance, it was as if he could read every single one of her thoughts. In actuality, he was well aware of his 'gift' to make anyone and everyone crack under his gaze, however he didn't have to do anything for it to work, it just did. He found it to work especially well on woman; he figured it was because they had a more gentle nature or, frankly, they found his eyes beautiful (if he had heard it once, he had heard it a thousand times) and there was no denial on _anyone's _part that his eyes were different. First off, they were blue. Now it wasn't as if blue eyes had never been seen before, but it was extremely rare for even the gypsies to have them and almost unheard-of in pure-blooded Romanian families. What was even odder, was the fact that neither his father nor his mother had blue eyes or many earlier generations of his ancestors for that matter. Secondly, they were not only blue but they were a _very _striking _hue_ of blue, so much so that they almost seemed unreal or unnatural but despite some very skeptical and wild claims, they were as real and as natural as they could be for they were the same eyes he had been born with.

The air in the room was thickening and becoming tense, so much so that Sophia felt as she could choke on it. However much to her relief, a door opened and in came a few servants with trays and platters of extravagant food. They set the trays on the table and then left as quickly as they had entered. It appeared everyone knew his or her places in the castle and they knew them as if they did nothing else.

"Go ahead," said Dracula, motioning with his hand to all the food.

Sophia looked over the delicious looking platters: strongly spiced chicken, hot buttered rolls, paprika dashed potatoes, roasted mutton, mixed vegetables, and many, many other wonderful foods. She didn't know where to start so she went with just picking a few choice things and putting small proportions on her plate before daintily beginning to eat, enjoying every strong, savory flavor as it hit her taste buds.

Dracula followed, putting food on his own plate but out the corner of his eye observed the way Sophia ate and handled herself, he could tell she was enjoying the food but he also noticed she appeared to have been brought up much better than he would have thought.

"Your manners seem more… refined than most peasants," he said. "I take it your mother or father taught you?"

She finished swallowing a bite of food before answering, "It was my father. His father taught him and his father before that, and it went back until, well, I don't know when, but once he married my mother he taught her what he knew and then they taught me and my sister. It was always important to him that Alina and I had as much of a 'proper' upbringing as possible… I can read too."

He cocked a brow. "Read?"

She nodded then tried to explain herself more, "Well, a little. He didn't have much to teach us with, usually he would make us read words written in the dirt, seeing as how books were too expensive for us and paper was hard to come by."

"So I take it you can also write?"

"Yes, much better than I can read… but I do neither well."

"It is a start though. Do you enjoy reading?"

"I guess so…"

"Hm, well one day I must show you the library," he said. "Maybe we shall work on your reading and writing skills, watering and pruning them to perfection."

"That would be nice," she said softly then continued to eat.

He gave her a few minutes before posing another question, "Can you dance?"

She looked up from her plate and to him, shaking her head. "No."

"That is perfectly alright. Another thing we can work on," he said with no outward show but inside he was thrilled with her response; the quicker he could get her onto the dance floor, the quicker he could get her between the sheets.

"There is a lot I have to work on," she mumbled half to herself.

"Not so much 'work,' as fine tuning," he said, "but you will be under a many scrutinizing gaze now and you _must_ know how to carry yourself, especially since that you do not come from a highly regarded background, however I imagine you will be a quick learner."

Sophia didn't say anything; she just ate, feeling _far_ from comforted by his words.

From then on, the both of them were silent as they finished their meal, Dracula eating comfortable and normally in his own dinner hall and Sophia eating small proportions carefully and delicately. Somehow, they managed to finish around the same time.

Reclining in his chair, Dracula took a sip of his wine before speaking to Sophia who was finishing her very last bite of food, "You must be exhausted."

She nodded then dabbed her mouth with her napkin and set it on the table, a sign she was 'done'.

With that, he rose, to which she did the same out of respect, and then he walked over beside her and offered his arm. "Come then, I'll walk you to your room," he said.

Sophia linked her right with his and they left the dinning hall, leaving the leftover food and the spoiled dishes. Their walk seemed to take forever, Sophia's heart pounding with fear and anticipation of what would happen once they reached her room. She had thought things were going her way but now this was happening! Horrible scenarios played out in her head and she wasn't sure what she could or _would_ do to stop him if things took a turn for the worst. Whether she could talk him out of it, beg him not to, or even bargain with him if need be. And then she also wondered if he would dare try to force her if she just burst into panicked tears. She honestly felt like she could throw up, and especially since she had just finished eating, that was _not _a good thing. Just when it felt as if they would never stop walking, they arrived at the door that led to her room.

"Well," he said, letting go of her arm and she nervously turned to face him. "I enjoyed your company at dinner."

She smiled and gave him a nod but that was all she managed before he unexpectedly lifted her chin with his index finger and thumb, and placed a firm kiss on her slightly parted lips. It lasted only a second but it _literally _took her breath away.

"Goodnight, my dear Sophia," he said, before turning and suddenly leaving her.

She stood there blinking, a sense of relief and astonishment pulsating through her veins… and on her lips. She wasn't sure what to think of that ending to one of the worst days of her life.

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**And there you go. Dracula is trying to be a gentleman and Sophia wants nothing to do with him. Haha. They are so funny. But don't get too comfy with them like this. Dracula still has interior motives (um, duh) and Sophia is still very naïve. Although, I totally agree with everyone who has said they would trade places with Sophia in a heartbeat. I _totally_ would. lol**

**Pirate forever: Thanks! I'm flattered that you're enjoying it! Sophia is in for _a lot_… and that's all I'm going to say. You'll have to read. lol Let me know what you think, mk? **

**Liz: I hope you liked this update! Thanks so much for reviewing! I do love all my reviews, and even more the people who do them. So, yeah, you are awesome:) I'd love to hear from you again! **

**Gimme gimme gimme reviews!... Pretty pwease? **


	7. Warnings

**Long time, no update. :P Actually, I think it's been about a week… but a _long_ week at that. I've spent a lot of my free time the past few days writing and finishing a very crucial chapter (yes, one chapter, but it's freakishly long and I re-re-rewrote parts of it) and I'm really happy with how it turned out, which is like _amazing _for me! Yeah, I'm picky. So get this, I was working on said chapter and learned that the word 'poofy' is, in fact, NOT a real word. What the crap?! I _know_ I'm not the only one that uses the word 'poofy' (i.e. "my hair went all poofy in the humidity today" "those sleeves are really poofy" "Did you see Dracula went all poofy in a cloud of smoke") and it would be nice to just be able to use that ONE word, rather than using like three to try and describe something that is, well, POOFY. -shakes head- Somebody find me the number for the dictionary people!**

**-ahem- Alright about this chapter… when I first wrote it I didn't intend to do the second part, however, I just wrote it for fun… then decided it worked really well and was kinda entertaining. It has the person in it who I love to write and _love to hate_. –smirk-**

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Bright, warm rays of sun filtered through a space between the heavy drapes and onto Sophia's sleeping face. She squirmed beneath the bulky covers of her bed as the light began to seep through her closed eyelids, waking her slowly. With reluctance, her eyes fluttered open and she peered up at the gorgeous burgundy canopy over her bed.

Her heart sank. She wasn't at home.

Although had she slept more wonderfully than she _ever_ had in her entire life and she seemed to be offered the whole world in the palm of one man's hand, she still missed her family, the familiar comfort of her old home… and her sense of freedom. Swallowing hard, she told herself there was nothing she could do about it, therefore no sense in wallowing in misery. And so, with that, she sat up, rolling the covers off her form and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet fell on something soft and silky on the floor and she looked down, recognizing it and trying to remember how it got there at the same time. It was her dress from last night; she had been in such a tizzy and an emotional mess from when the Prince left her, she didn't even bother turning on a light, just unlacing, struggling, and wiggling out of her dress, leaving her chemise on, before collapsing into the comfortable bed and drowning out everything with slumber.

_It probably costs more than everything my family owns,_ she thought, picking it up and gingerly placing it on the bed. She then wiped the remaining drowsiness out of her eyes with the back of her fists like a child and stood up. She hadn't got much of a chance the day before to look around her room and she certainly didn't give any thought to it last night, so she decided now would be as good a time as any to look around a bit.

First, she went to the drapes and pulled them back fully, surprised by how much light they kept out when it flooded the room. She then turned and scanned over everything, noting the colors, the textures… the all-around warmth. Her bed was enormous and by its sheer size, it was the centerpiece of the room; the rich mahogany wood of the carved frame matched wonderfully with the burgundy of the downy covers and satin sheets, making it look just as cozy as it _really_ felt. The bedside table, vanity table, accompanying seat, and the two elegant chairs in the corner were also made of the same expensive wood.

She sat down in front of the vanity table and affectionately ran her fingers across the even finish of the top, then over the curves and twists carved into its front drawer, before letting her fingers slip around the intricate handle – a wooden rose. It was a masterpiece in itself for it was completely three dimensional, each little petal carved perfectly with ever so much care for fine details, but it wasn't made out of the mahogany wood, it was made out of a cherry, so it looked _even_ _more_ realistic. Sophia knew something like this was rare because her father was a carpenter and he never had the skill or business to make something so marvelous, for that reason she couldn't help but admire it.

Soon, her interest moved on to the mirror in front of her and the familiar yet somewhat changed reflection it in. Her hair might have been smoother and her face, well, cleaner but she still saw herself as the same ordinary person and she wondered what the Prince _ever_ saw in her. She picked up the comb on the vanity and took a few pointless swipes at her hair before she caught the reflection of a tapestry on the wall behind her. She rose from her seat and walked across the large room to get closer to it. Once she was a foot or so near it, she stopped; she could see the details much better. It was a sort of floral weaved design, dark, but going with the feminine theme she was already noticing in the room with the flowers… mostly roses. Then again, she knew they bordered Bulgaria, which was _famous_ for them. As her caramel eyes continued to unwittingly the fine points of the tapestry, she began to ponder on the things she had already told herself not to worry about.

So much had changed in just barely twenty-four hours and yet, there was still so much that had to change. Her sense of freedom had been taken from her but she had been handed so much more than she ever could imagine. She had to learn the proper way of doing things (at least in others'eyes) and at the same time, make the castle her home. Which she knew would be hard for her because everything around was so elegant and expensive that she would fear touching it or working around it. However, none of these things that made her anxious compared to how she felt about Prince Dracula. She feared his supposed temper, his unstoppable power, his favor as shifty as the wind, but most of all, she feared his passions. The man was about as famous for his female exploits as he was for his military ones and Sophia didn't want to be any part of it. What compounded things though, was that he had a dark and secretive aura about him that could make just about any woman weak in the knees and create butterflies in her stomach… to which even she was not immune. The only thing that kept her from giving into him was that she wanted to give her innocence to the one that she _truly_ loved, not one that wanted to take it out of lust.

Sophia moved from the tapestry (which she had lost interest with) and back to her bed. Dropping on the mattress on her back, she rubbed her forehead because a slight headache had begun to move through her skull. That is when she heard a light rap at the door.

"Who is it?" she asked, sitting up and brushing a few loose locks of hair out of her face.

"Mary, your servant, miss," came the soft, unsure voice. "I have breakfast for you."

"Come in." She stood and tried smoothing out the wrinkles in her cotton chemise to no avail.

The young girl entered the room timidly with a silver tray in her hands, covered with food. Sophia gave her an appreciative smile but Mary acted as if she didn't know how to respond so she pressed her lips in a thin line and set the tray on the bedside table.

"Thank you," Sophia said, picking up a piece of toast and beginning to butter it with a knife. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Almost noon," Mary replied.

Sophia took a bite of bread and then nearly choked on it. "What? Almost noon! You should have woken me!"

The servant looked terribly distraught. "I'm _so_ sorry, miss. I knocked on your door once earlier but you didn't answer."

"You did?" Sophia said then sighed. "It's alright. I slept so well and deep last night; I don't usually sleep like that. Next time, just knock a little harder." She gave the young woman a reassuring smile before repeating, "It's alright, _really_."

Sophia couldn't help but notice Mary's exhale of relief. The poor servant seemed to distance herself from Sophia because of, what Sophia could only imagine was, her now higher status; Mary seemed almost frightened of her! If this were the case, which she was positive it was, Sophia would have to give her reason _not _to fear her.

"How did you sleep last night?" she asked, trying to get her to open up, even just a little.

"Well… thank you," said Mary, her brow furrowed from surprise that Sophia cared to ask about her.

Sophia smiled brightly. "Good!" she said, before finishing off the toast then starting on the hard-boiled egg. She noticed after a few bites that Mary was standing nearby, out of the way and so silent, it was like she wasn't even there. Something about that made Sophia uneasy; no one should be invisible like that. "You don't have to stand, you can come sit beside me," she said, patting the bed beside her.

The girl shook her head and said, "It's alright. I'm fine."

"No, really, I insist. I don't like you to be standing while I'm just sitting. Please?" Sophia pressured more. Mary still seemed unsure about it but she sat down beside her. "Now," said Sophia, "do we have anything planned today?"

"Well, not really," said Mary. "The Prince had a few important meetings planned before you came, so he'll be busy for most of the day…" Sophia sighed, relieved too soon. "But he does request your presence again tonight, for another, um… dinner."

Sophia nearly groaned aloud but caught herself before she did; she didn't need _anyone's_ word (including Mary's) getting back to Prince Dracula that his company displeased her so. Those were feelings she would have to keep to herself, at least until she found someone to trust through and through, otherwise, things could turn out badly for her and maybe even trickle back to her family.

"You mean like the one last night?" asked Sophia, catching the servant's hesitance in her last words.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, before answering, "I was told not to tell you too much about it, but I don't think I will get in trouble if I told you that, no, it is not like the dinner you had last night. There will be a few more… people there."

Sophia looked back at the tray of food, avoiding Mary's gaze so the servant wouldn't be able to see the discontented look on her usually cheery features. _So be it, into the lion's den of Court I go, _she thought. Then finished breakfast and getting ready for the day in silence.

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If someone were to describe Sophia's personality in a few words, they would say she was gentle-spirited, quiet, kind and maybe even meek but what few wouldn't know at first, was that –although she wasn't very learned– she was extremely analytical; she constantly noted and weighed things in her mind more than most people. This was one of the reasons why every so often she needed something to calm her nerves, which she found in the solace of nature. Or, right now, the closest thing to it: the castle courtyard.

She wandered alone and barefoot through the few strategically patterned trees, running her curious hands over the bark and stepping carefully around the plants that were in the early stages of hibernating or dying for the coming winter. As light-footed as a nymph, she moved to one of the many fountains in the courtyard and let her fingers skim the cool water before sitting down on the stone edge. It felt so good to be out, to feel the grass in between her toes, to breathe the fresh air… to feel free again. Closing her eyes and exhaling softly, she relaxed in the quiet.

"You must be Sophia," came an icy, melodious voice, shattering the silence.

Sophia's eyes shot open and her back stiffened out of the relaxed position she had been in, as she slowly turned to see who was talking to her.

A tall, slender woman with bronzed skin and dark hair made her way around the fountain and then over to a nearby tree. She leaned her shoulder against it and put all her weight on one leg, her waist and hips making an elegant arc away from the trunk. There was something superior in the way she carried herself, maybe even haughty.

"Well, you sure are a pretty little thing," she mused about Sophia, her Turkish accent lacing her words.

Sophia just smiled faintly, unsure how to respond to this unknown person.

"Although, I pictured you would be different…" She paused. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Sophia shook her head. "Um, no. I'm afraid not," she said, even though she _did_ have an idea.

The gorgeous woman laughed, putting her hand to her chest, gesturing about herself. "Oh, well, I am Nedezda… Prince Dracula's mistress," she said, raising her head in faint self-importance at the last words. "I have heard _so much _about you since you arrived just yesterday. You have been the talk of the castle, and I _had_ to see for myself if what everyone has been saying, was true. It seems that the description is somewhat off but then you've only been in the castle for a day and we haven't seen much of you. My goodness, you look young! How old _are_ you?"

"Eighteen," Sophia answered, shifting uncomfortably. She hated being put on the spot, and worse she could swear there was some contempt in the woman's voice.

"You don't really look eighteen, then again, it could be what you are wearing or your hair. No. I know what it is. You are one of those girls that have that 'innocent look' about you. That explains why he took such an interest in you." She gasped and her look turned grave. "Oh, you poor thing…"

"What?" asked Sophia.

"No, no, I can't tell you, you must be terrified as it is, being away from home and all. I don't want to make things worse," she said, shaking her head, a few of her dark locks swinging in her face.

"Why? Please…"

"Well, if you _really_ want to know," Nedezda said charmingly, "but don't say I didn't warn you! It is true when people say that the Prince enjoys the company of 'new' women time to time, but loving any of them – he does not! Since I've been with him, I've seen two girls, both a lot like you, with their youth, innocence and sensitive nature, pass in and out of his favor… and his bedchambers. The poor girls had believed he loved them, when all he wanted was a change. He ravished them and then disposed of them within a few weeks. Last I heard of them, they were hard pressed to find husbands because their virginity had been compromised. It seems that no man wants a woman who has already been touched, even if it was by a Prince. I would hate for you to go away like they did… though, there isn't much you can do. After all, he _is_ Prince Dracula and he will do as he pleases. Just do not think that he will love you… for _I _have his _true _heart."

Sophia just sat there – speechless and dumbstruck. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach, like someone had just thrust a knife into her belly and then turned it excruciatingly slow. All the color was gone from her face and all she could do was inhale and exhale the fresh air into her parted lips. Oh, did she want to get away! To run from everything! To go far and for long as she could 'til her legs gave out. But she couldn't. Her head was too light and her limbs too heavy.

"Oh, you poor, _poor_ child!" Nedezda said, moving over to the bench and sitting down beside Sophia. "I didn't mean to frighten you so! It isn't all bad. Maybe your fate won't be like the other girls', maybe one day you will to find a man that will take you. You are somewhat plain but have a pretty face. Oh, you poor thing!" She touched Sophia's shoulder. "You look pale. You don't feel faint, do you? Is there _anything _I can get you?"

A simple headshake came from Sophia. "No," she choked out. "I just could use some time alone."

"Alright then," Nedezda said softly. "Just please don't be angry with me… I only wanted to spare you from pain."

"I-I understand," Sophia said, nodding. "It was nice to meet you."

Nedezda smiled brightly, almost too bright for one who was just concerned with scaring another to death. "A pleasure," she said, then turned and strolled off.

**0000000000**

**Are you guys getting the vibe that Nedezda shouldn't be trusted? Well, she shouldn't. lol Anyhow, what _is_ Sophia in for next chapter… heh heh… I feel evil. –rubs hands together- All I'm going to say is that it is one of my favorite chapters… and it's a little bit tense, a little funny, a lota hot, and somewhat distressing. That's all your getting for now. **

**cinafran: Hey! Thanks for the review! POTC did totally rock! And that was one of the best lines in the movie, along with, "Wait! I dropped me brain!" and "Now, go fetch it." (you know, fetch his hat). Then again, I love just about everything out of Jack's mouth. -laughs-**

**Okay, so until next update… review! That would be awesome of you. _Oh yeah_… **


	8. Too Much, Too Soon

**Well, well, well, look who's back by popular demand. XD Kidding! Seriously though, some of you asked really nicely for me to update soon, and since this is one of my favorite chapters, I'm going to comply!!! This also happens to be the longest chapter I've **_**posted **_**(not written) yet. Oh! And as a forewarning, no one like freak out or anything, I **_**don't**_** go over the rating in this chapter… heh heh… **

**Without further ado… **

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"Just smile and mind your mouth – you don't want to be saying anything you might regret tomorrow," said Mary, taking long strides down a hall on the north side of the castle.

Sophia took mental notes from the servant, more experienced in the ways of the court than she could ever be at this point, as she fidgeted with her dress… the one that the Prince supposedly 'requested' she wear. The top had a low, scoop neckline and the corset she was wearing under everything (which she still had not gotten used to and hated) was pushing more cleavage up than she was comfortable showing. The material was white Egyptian cotton that looked somewhat crinkled. It fit her loose and flowing but was thin, and in the right lighting, one could clearly see the shadowy outline of her form. She felt with the softness and sheerness of the fabric that she wasn't wearing anything. The dress was every bit gorgeous on her.

And she hated it.

Why did the Prince want her to wear _this?_ Exactly, what sort of dinner was it that called for her to wear this to? She was soon to find out when she and Mary stopped before a door.

"As long as you remember what I said, you'll be fine," Mary said, her voice low. "Everyone will love you. Don't worry."

"Thank you," Sophia said, giving her a sincere smile of appreciation. "I wouldn't know what to do without you."

"You're welcome Miss, but I'm _your_ servant now. It's my job to be as helpful to you as I can be," Mary said, then she curtsied and excused herself.

Sophia stood alone and facing the door. She knew she had to enter the room but couldn't bring her feet to move; she almost thought it would be easier if someone just forced her to enter, rather than having to do it on her own. A round of loud, almost boisterous, laughter came from inside the room, making her almost jump. Oh, how she didn't want to do this!

_One deep breath and then you are __going__ to move, _she told herself.

She inhaled then stepped forward, taking the brass handle in her hand, and entered.

Stepping in, she was thankful she had taken that deep breath of air because when all eyes turned on her, she swore she couldn't breathe. There had to be at least fifteen nobles in that room and all of them were men. It felt as if she was the pun of a dreadfully dirty joke.

She found herself scanning the crowd, all the faces, for one she knew – Prince Dracula. But she couldn't see him and she mentally began to panic just a foot into the room with the door closed behind her.

"There you are," cooed a familiar voice, and she looked to her side to see the Prince moving towards her, around a few other men. He was wearing his usual attire, only lacking the coat, which left him in a black silk shirt with the collar well open. His mannerisms were exceptionally casual. "Just in time."

She could have sighed in a strange sense of relief.

"You look… positively breathtaking," he said, coming up to her, grasping her chin gently between his thumb and index finger and placing a somewhat rough kiss on her lips. He then moved beside her while his free hand snaked around her waist and he pulled her in, her hip crashing into his… this action nearly making Sophia squeak with surprise. "Come along, I would like to introduce you to some very important people…" With a dominant manner and without giving her any chance to speak a word, he pulled her by his side to meet the few noblemen (and some others) that were lucky enough to be considered his 'friends'.

Sophia kept a charming smile plastered on her face the entire time, speaking sweetly when spoken to, while trying hard to control her raging inner emotions. It was blatant to her that this was _not _a formal gathering but the complete opposite – from the fairly rowdiness of the men, the alcohol present (mostly ale), and the general conversations. She couldn't help feeling as if the Prince was dangling her, like a toy, in front of everyone there. And it would seem that the lighting in the room was oh so perfect for the nearly sheer dress she was wearing.

_Now_ she understood why he had wanted her to wear it!

There were constant casually vulgar remarks about pretty much every womanly part of her that she didn'tneed or want anyone else thinking about, but none of those were as bad as when someone would be audacious enough to ask the Prince how well she was 'in bed'. She could feel her cheeks burn every time as he chuckled off the question, gracefully changing the subject to anything from the weather to another foul joke, or worse, when he answered with, "in time… in time". Making things worse for her, while these degrading little chats were going on, his death-grip on her waist had begun to relax up and his hand began to slip lower and lower. She couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When Sophia thought that she would vomit if she heard another comment about her breasts, the Prince pulled her away to a tall-backed chair against a wall. He released his hold on her hip and sat down, staring up at her as she stood squarely before him. She glanced to both sides of his chair, only to find nothing for her to sit in.

_Am I supposed to stand beside him the whole time? _she thought innocently, then her eyes fell on his face.

His lips were pressed together in the wickedest smirk and his deep pools of blue for eyes had a mischievously wolfish look in them. He patted his right thigh.

No, he couldn't possibly want her to…

"Sit," he commanded playfully.

He could.

She stood there for a spilt second, unsure how to handle the situation then realized – there was nothing for her to do. So she turned and reluctantly sat on his strong leg and he leisurely wrapped his arms around her waist again, pulling her back into his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder and she sat there for a moment, in the most uncomfortable position, before shifting subtly… then shifting again… and again, then finally stopping.

"Comfortable?" he teased.

She mentally groaned.

He reached up, stroking her honey waves of hair, enjoying the fine strands that ran through his long fingers like water, though his attentions were only partially on her, the other half being on a loud game of knife throwing at the other end of the room.

"How was your day?" he asked, rather disengaged.

"Fine," she answered softly, almost lost in the volume level in the room.

"What did you do?"

"Um, I suppose you can say I explored some of the east wing, but I didn't get far when I found the courtyard," she said.

"You like the outdoors?" He glanced over to see her face but she was looking straight ahead… and had been the whole time.

"Yes, it is so beautiful outside. The colors… the smells… its all so, so… wonderful!"

He looked genuinely surprised. "Most women don't like the outdoors… then again," his tone turned intimate, "you have _more_ than proven yourself to be unlike most women."

Sophia turned, looking him in the eyes, their frosty gleam causing her skin to warm up and her palms to get hot. In a nervous habit of hers, she could feel her toes come together and the sole of her shoe sliding over the top of her other foot. She couldn't shake herself from this enchantment of his that she was under.

Dracula's gaze was unyielding, his eyes traveling all over the beautiful arches and contours of her face. The smooth strands of hair that hung in front of her caramel eyes, the crimson apples of her cheeks, the delicate curve of her nose, but what he was finding he loved the most about her, were her lips. They were the perfect size, not too full, not too thin, always of a fair pink tint and looked delicately soft. They were slightly parted and he could tell she was gently breathing through her mouth. He wanted so badly to tenderly take her face in both hands and to run his fingers over her lips, to feel her hot breath on his skin and the tip of her moist tongue on his thumb…

A loud cheer from the men in the room broke their moment, causing Sophia to look away quickly. Leaving the two of them in such wonder at what just happened.

Sophia closed her eyes as a chill ran up her spine; she honestly had no clue what the feelings were in her head, chest, and abdomen. They were foreign to her. They didn't they fit the descriptions she had heard of for either love or lust, only serving to confuse her more.

On the other hand, the Prince wasn't completely convinced it wasn't lust, although if it was lust in its entirety, it was strange indeed.

Silence fell over the both of them before Dracula calmly managed, as if nothing happened, "Did you do anything else?"

"No," she said, ahead of thinking, while her mind was still cloudy, then things started coming back to her. "Well, I did meet… um," she fished for the name in her head, "Nedezda?"

This caught Dracula's attention. "And what did you think about her?"

"She seemed nice, I suppose," answered Sophia.

"She was?" he asked skeptically and she nodded a 'yes.' "That is… good," he said, but his thoughts were different. His eyes narrowed, wondering what would posses Nedezda to be cordial to someone she had pitched such a fit over. He could still hear her typically pleasant-sounding voice, loud and shrill in his head from that morning; she had been furious when she learned that Sophia, his newest interest, would be taking her place at the dinner. But a few threatening words had silenced her abruptly. His smile turned dark; he had to admit that he enjoyed that power.

Sophia was easily distracted from her light conversation with the Prince (who now appeared to be thinking) to watching the interactions transpiring in the room. She almost found it comical seeing the faces as of the men telling over exaggerated stories without knowing what they were saying. Her eyes scanned the room before falling on someone she had not been introduced to yet. He sat in a corner, slouching in a chair with his feet crossed and propped up on another before him, he wore dark colored clothes and his shaggy head of hair was a dark, deep shade of brown. Although he looked disinterested in most of what was going on around him, Sophia could tell he was still watching.

"My lord," she said, getting Prince Dracula's attention. "Did I meet him?" she asked, gesturing slightly with her eyes and head, yet unsure why she cared.

"No, I'm afraid you haven't had that _honor_," he said, chuckling to himself, then leaning around her and calling over the noise, "Gabriel! Come here!"

The man named Gabriel, removed his feet from the chair, stood up then strode over to them as if he might as well owned the place.

"Yes?" he asked, a curious smile forming over his rugged features.

"Sophia wanted to meet you," Dracula said, then added, "…well, that I thought it high time you to get off your ass."

Gabriel openly rolled his eyes and almost instantly, Sophia knew they were close friends.

He tipped his head briefly to her. "The name's Gabriel Van Helsing. It is an honor to meet you lady," he said in Romanian but his accent was something she was not familiar with. "If ever need be, I place my services in your hands."

Sophia's smiled wide. _This_ was a man who should be a Prince!

"Thank you." She nodded back to him. "Hopefully, that will never be the case."

"I only hope not," he said.

Dracula looked at Sophia, slightly more serious and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Gabriel and I have quite a bit of history together; we have known each other since we were in our early adult years. We've done almost everything together. I don't know how many battles I've won with his help… and how many I would have lost without it. His expertise is in knife throwing…"

"Which is why I am not participating," Gabriel interjected.

"He is even better than _me_," said Dracula, in a jokingly arrogant way.

"And that is saying something?" Gabriel smirked, his dark eyes gleaming as he pulled up a chair to sit in.

"Very funny, Gabriel," said the Prince, shooting him a look.

Sophia beamed, entertained by the two of them as they bickered and chatted about meaningless things. She sort of liked this Gabriel Van Helsing character; he seemed like a gentleman, and despite the first outer appearance of keeping to himself and being all mysterious, she watched him open up to his long time friend. She noticed he made himself out to be a fighter, a warrior, but she could tell he _was_ deeper than that. From what she learned, he was _extremely_ well traveled, God fearing, and a good bit of a thinker, yet, there was something lacking. Maybe it was her sensitive nature that she knew there was a missing piece to him, even through his lighthearted jokes, but what ever was missing she couldn't place. Another thing that frustrated her a little was she didn't know where he was from – his accent seemed a mixture. Either way, he was someone she didn't mind listening to or being around.

However, Prince Dracula was taking an interesting turn in Sophia's heart. It seemed there might just be more behind those good looks rather than arrogance, shallowness, and the need for a rotation of women. He was more forwardly intellectual than Gabriel and the stories she was hearing from both of them was proving to her that he was also _truly_ the military strategist and commander that she had heard so many tales of. She noticed the charming aura he possessed, the one that she thought was feigned with her, did not change… even when he was obviously too relaxed to worry about her being there. In fact, she found him even _more_ charming when he wasn't focused on her, it gave her a chance to see who he really was, which didn't seem bad in any way. She quickly fell in love with his laugh though – the way he would smile, tilting his head back slightly, the sound deep, like it had reverberated inside his chest before escaping his lips; she could even feel it too because her back still rested against him. Still, those strange sensations in her body didn't go away… just grew stronger.

Time passed quickly, a few 'guests' excusing themselves each hour, until finally it was the three of them alone and laughing in the great room. None of them had yet to realize it was _well_ past midnight.

"You should have seen the Pope's face," Dracula told Sophia, snickering.

Her face was bright red with laughing as she held her stomach, nearly doubled over. "Oooh, Gabriel I can't believe you _actually_ did that," she gasped out between laughing fits.

"I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for Vlad here," he said, tipping his mug of ale to his friend before taking another sip. He was clearly enjoying the young woman's lively ambiance.

"Now, that my dear friend, is not true and you know this!" Dracula snapped back.

"Oh, yes it is." Gabriel pointed an accusing finger at him.

The Prince rolled his eyes in a very undignified manner. "Be that as it may, I didn't _force_ you to do it, therefore you are the one who is going to spend a week in hell… not me." He took a sip of his own ale.

Gabriel grumbled and shook his head while Sophia calmed down from laughing then yawned like a little child, covering her mouth hastily.

"It's getting late," said Dracula, noting the time from her actions and he stood Sophia up and rose as well. "I think it's time we take our leave."

Gabriel nodded in understanding. "Well, goodnight," he directed to Sophia. "We will see each other again."

"That would be nice," she said, her eyes sparkling. The Prince put a hand on her lower back and urged her to the door but she wasn't alarmed by the action. "Goodnight," she called back to Gabriel.

He offered her a warm smile and a slight wave as she and Dracula left the room.

Sophia not in the least bit worried or nervous while being led back to her room; she was on to much of a high from the laughter and stories. Maybe the Prince wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. Maybe he was someone she could get to know. Maybe even grow to…love? She quickly shook the thought from her mind. It was too soon for those ideas.

They stopped in front of her door and he turned, facing her. She looked up at him, their eyes connecting to form a trance like mixture of cool and warm. Her toes curled in her shoes, that horrible nervous habit she had, as she waited for him to make a movement… a certain movement… one she was sure he would do next… which was all she wanted him to do in that moment.

Slowly, he bent his head over hers and her heart leapt.

This was what she wanted!

His face inched closer and closer before she could feel the warmth of his breath mingle with her own. Their noses touched and lips brushed, her eyes fluttering until closing, right as his mouth fell over hers. He was surprisingly gentle, which caught her off guard but not in a bad way for she was completely new and nervous in the territory. Actually, she was so unsure in what to do, she just parted her lips, barely moving them while he did most of the work.

He took notice to this and, even though he found it somewhat _cute_, he was always one to push the limits – this being no exception. So, he tenderly took her chin in both his large hands and with little force on her already relaxed jaw, he got her to part her lips even more. Then without warning, he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

She nearly jerked away, startled that he would try something like that but quickly adjusted to his probing and exploring, rather enjoying it… even though her conscience screamed at her that it was too soon for these things and that it was wrong. However, she ignored her head and found herself becoming more confident and comfortable with him, so much so, she began kissing him back… carefully, of course. There was a flavor on his curious tongue, that of ale, it wasn't strong, but there. She kind of enjoyed it.

While his passions continued to taint her pure mind, his hands fell from her jaw and moved down her arms, sending her skin crawling with delight, before moving to the sides of her waist then pushing her – a little too roughly – into the door behind. She faintly gasped, her body tensing at being pinned by his larger and stronger form but he continued to ravish her mouth. She could hear the jiggling sound of the brass knob at her side as he turned it and her heart began to race.

Before she knew it, the door was open and she was being walked backwards into the room. He then kicked the door closed, shutting out the dim lights of the hall, leaving them in just the pitch-black room.

Sophia wanted to pull away from him now. Though delightful his kisses were… they were no longer worth the risk. It had gone too far. It was _going_ too far.

Even so, she kept being backed up, until she felt her calves and the back of her legs hit something and her heart skipped a few beats realizing what it was – the edge of the bed. Her head spun as his mouth still devoured hers, his arms wrapping tighter around her, his weight bearing down on her, and at last, she couldn't hold herself up anymore. She fell back, her hands falling, palms up beside her head, sinking into the softness that seemed like it wanted to swallow her whole, and Dracula coming crashing down on top of her.

His broad, firm chest was heavy, making her feel the need to _gasp_ for any air when she could not inhale for it. In some way, they both had landed rather _strangely_, with her knees almost on either side of him and he was just about lying between her legs. She felt something large and rigid graze her inner thigh and her chaste mind didn't grasp what it was initially… but when she did, her eyes grew wide and she withheld a squeak of fearfulness while trying to buck away from him, though not really getting far because of his weight.

He heard her whimper and felt her shift beneath him but chose to ignore it, she would find pleasure soon enough, this he knew from experience with women. Plus, he was enjoying her squirming – the more she did, the more her breasts would brush against his chest and the further apart her legs were going. He would have smirked had his lips not been preoccupied by the short, yet rousing, journey from her mouth to her chin, rapidly working their way down the front of her neck, eager to explore what lay below and beyond. Uncharted realms had always been something he took pleasure in.

Alternatively, Sophia was in panic mode and her mind couldn't take it anymore. She had to pull herself to say something. She _had_ to. If she didn't, she would _never _forgive herself.

"No…" she whispered, so nervous, it was barely audible.

He was near taken back when she openly – though timidly – denied him… but she would snap… he was very sure of it. He just had to find her weakness.

"Shhh," he offered, sliding his fingers over her lips.

She silenced, her lip quivering and eyes filling with tears while he kept moving down her front, his smooth face soon burying between her breasts. Her senses were enjoying his touch but she was struggling in her mind as her conscience fought with dark desires she never even knew she possessed – it felt like she was being torn in two. Little did she know, Dracula was about to take things up a notch.

His idle hands slipped leisurely over her cleavage, across her flat stomach, over the curve of her hips, and down the front of her thighs. He squeezed playfully when he reached just above her knees and bent one of her legs up, resting her foot on the bed, and then he slid his hand slowly down her shin still covered by the fabric of her dress. What he did next, Sophia found relief in….

He eased off her a little.

But she was quickly in dismay and slight wonder when he took one small foot in hand and removed her shoe. It almost seemed gentle and sweet… until he bent her leg up, bringing it to his face and pressing his sweltering mouth to her ankle. A shudder ran up her spine, watching in shock as he began moving up her calf, leaving her skin moist everywhere his lips touched. He lifted her foot higher and she had to struggle to hold her dress in place so it wouldn't fall, exposing her. Her vision was getting blurry by her own tears as he reached the bend in her leg and she worried about how much further he was going to go. Everything screamed at her that he wouldn't stop until there was nothing left untouched.

"Ple-please…no…" she muttered again, blinking and the tears rolled down the side of her face.

"I promise, you'll enjoy this," he breathed into the middle, inner part of her thigh, having not even looked up.

"Please," she choked out once more. It took all her courage and strength to refuse him, on _fear_ of him being the Prince.

He lifted his head, his blue orbs falling on her flustered face and eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. He let her leg drop to the bed and stood up, staring down at the poor beauty that returned his gaze with more terror than he had seen even in men's faces before death. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, chest rising, choking back emotion until finally her eyelids closed and she broke into a heart-wrenching sob.

She had held it in so long. She was so horrified… so scared… it had to come out. There was nowhere else for it _to_ go.

Her body racked and fat tears rolling down her cheeks and the side of her face, but still she didn't try to cover her face like most would, she was too scared to move.

Dracula stepped back. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fix it, to apologize for it, to do _anything_ to make it better. This was not how it was supposed to happen! He couldn't stand there and watch her cry, so he did the best thing he knew at the time. Without a word, he turned and left her room.

Sophia felt so tainted, so used, like her trust had been given away then broken. She rolled onto her side and just cried, filling the dark and silence of the room.

Eventually, she fell asleep to the sad, sick lullaby of her own weeping.

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**Mwahahahahah! I LOVE that chapter!!! I laughed writing the part when Dracula asked Sophia "Comfortable?"... and Gabriel shows up for a time (I bet some of you got excited)... and then Dracula tries 'putting the moves on' Sophia (lol) and she definitely doesn't take too well to that. Yeah. I feel bad for her, but at the same time it was kinda hot. So I'm torn. -is an evil authoress- **

**dancinglemur: You didn't sign in! lol It's okay. But hey! Nedezda is totally nasty, isn't she? Well, you haven't seen the last of her… not by a long shot. Haha. Thanks! **

**cinafran: Ah! You reviewed again! Yay! I totally love both movies! And thank you so much, I'm glad you love my story. I hope you'll stick with it, as it's just starting to get good.**

**Pirategirl: Hi! Thanks for reviewing and sharing your idea! Me likey! As I said above, the story is just getting started, so you never know what is going to happen next. I think next chapter will prove that. I got a ten out of ten?! Wow! Awesome! **

**Alright, as usual, I would _love_ reviews, and getting reviews for **_**this **_**specific update (being that it was sooner than I planned on updating – which was Monday or Tuesday – and one of my favorite chapters), would make me so, so, so excited! Long ones make me especially giddy (ForeverACharmedOne, you owe me! lol jkjk), but I don't care how you want to review! It's all up to you! Btw, just wondering, since you all are the readers and reviewers… it seems, by the reviews per chapter, that you guys like the ones with only Sophia and no Dracula... why is that****? I mean, if you guys don't like Dracula that much, I can just take him out. :P Haha. Yeah, I wouldn't have much of a story then, would I? **

**REVIEW!**


	9. Repercussions of Denying a Prince

**Alright. No, I didn't leave this story forever. Nor did I die. Nor get kidnapped by my muse to a far-off country (although, that would be kinda cool. lol). I've just been really busy this past month. Here is the **_**extremely**_** condensed version: **

**My laptop 'crashed' (meaning, black screen, unable to sign into Windows) for **_**three**_** whole days after I posted last. I was inconsolable and edgy until we fixed it. I guess I didn't realize how much I depended on it, till it was gone. Both my brothers' birthdays were in the past month, and we had to clean the house for my grandmother to come; she spent a few days with us. Then, of course being summertime, there were plenty of events and things in the mix that we've been up to, which would be long and boring for me to get into. So yeah, it doesn't seem like much, but, oh man, time has gone by so freaking fast. Wow. –shakes head in disbelief- **

**But, I will say the best thing we did – or went to go see. TRANSFORMERS! We went to go see it for my brother's b-day, and I thought it would be **_**okay**_**, but didn't expect much out of it. Boy, was I wrong. I **_**LOVE**_** that movie. I haven't stopped talking about it since I saw it. Even my mom, who thought it would be completely stupid, likes it. A lot. I **_**highly**_** recommend going to see it!!! **

**Anyhoo, enough about my month… We are at chapter nine now, hm? Duh, you say, this is your story. Yes, yes, I know that. Thank you for reminding me. Well, poor Draccypoo… I believe his ego was wounded quite a bit last chapter with Sophia refusing him. –chuckles- But if we know him, he wont let that one just roll of his shoulders like it was no big deal… **

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_What did I do wrong last night? _Dracula asked himself, pacing the stone floor behind his desk.

He almost never paced.

_I'll tell you what you did wrong: you scared her half to death! _his conscience nagged at him. _Yes, but, how? What did __I__ do wrong? Am I losing my touch? I've never had a woman react quite like __that__ before. That certainly was not what I expected… or wanted. _His mind traveled to last night, to Sophia's face, her eyes. He nearly felt… guilty.

Guilt. When was the last time he had felt that emotion?

He stopped at his desk and slammed his fist into the wood then hung his head, his eyes closed tight. _Enough! You will not tear yourself up over a simple girl! You know what you have to do with her… you've already made up your mind. And then a thousand times over again! You will not do it once more! Do what you must today. You do not care about her! She is an object! And you __don't__ care if this ruins any chance of a real relationship. Do what you must… _

It was decided.

He lifted his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, and then sat down at his desk. He propped an elbow on the arm of the chair and squeezed the spot between his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He had called for Sophia and she would be knocking at the door any minute now, which meant he had to gather himself, and soon. After all, he was the Prince and he could not be seen in, what he considered was, a moment of weakness.

As if on cue, the sound of a knock came from the door.

"Enter," he said expectantly, staring at a spot on his desk.

An advisor shuffled in and without even looking up, Dracula knew that it wasn't Sophia. The man moved to his desk and lay papers down then exited quickly.

_Where is that infernal woman! _he thought, sitting there idly, waiting and waiting. He could barely stand it, so he stood up and started pacing… again. Placing one black boot in front of the other, he watched his own feet. _Why am I so impatient? What has this woman done to me? Well, whatever it is, it will en-_ he was interrupted by a gentle tap at the door. He turned, his back to the door, and spoke. 

"Enter."

He didn't hear a sound of any movement but he heard the door close. There weren't many in the castle who could be that quiet – it was Sophia.

And he was right.

Sophia was terribly nervous; he had requested her presence and she could only guess it was about last night. She could see him standing there with his back to her, he wore his 'formal' attire again and, like always, his sleek black hair was pulled up and fell somewhat below his neckline, down his back. She wondered what he was thinking, standing so stiff, so unmoving. Her weary eyes fell to the floor as she waited for him to acknowledge her.

He turned to see her standing just barely inside the room; her white-clad form looked so petite standing in front of the huge oak door. Her head was tilted down and she had her hands clasped together before her.

"Come closer," he commanded, and without even looking up, she took a few more steps closer. It was good enough. "Miss Shevich… look at me." It was the first time he had ever used her last name – he felt it lacked the personal intimacy.

She shifted her eyes to meet him… something rather hard on her part.

It was easy for him to tell she had been crying, her golden orbs were bloodshot and slightly pink, the rims puffy from so much rubbing. Her face was pale, and her lips… her usually tempting lips were colorless and white. It _almost_ made him feel guilty all over again.

"Would you like to explain what went wrong last night?" he asked.

Sophia swallowed hard, her eyes flickering, having trouble keeping them on him and she barely choked out, "I couldn't…"

"You couldn't… what?" He knew very well what she was saying.

"I couldn't…" her voice went barely above a whisper, "I… I just couldn't sleep with you."

"Uh huh. Did you not understand when you gave yourself to me, two days ago, that you would be giving me _everything_?"

She bit her lip, thinking of the words to explain her… stupidity, her naivety. "I didn't think that you wanted me… in that way."

"Why else did you think I wanted you?" he asked, genuinely surprised. This was new information to him.

"I guess I thought you wanted me to be a servant or something…" She was having such a hard time looking at him, his stare so intent, like he could see through to her soul.

"Do you understand what power I have? What I could do to you for this?"

Sophia's couldn't take it anymore. Her gaze fell from his as her vision distorted with shining, unshed tears and she bit her bottom lip, her toes coming together in that bad habit of hers._ Will stopping him have been worth it if he has you __killed_ she thought to herself. _Maybe you should have just let him go through with it… who knows what he will do now. _

"Miss Shevich, I want you to look at me," he told her again.

She immediately obeyed, her nose and cheeks turning redder by the second as she held back emotion.

He _hated_ the way he was treating her but that feeling was new. He never felt guilty for talking to anyone like he was – questioning them, making them understand his authority, even fear him – not even Nedezda… but Sophia, she was doing something to him. He didn't recognize it but wasn't ready to embrace the feelings. He had to stay firm with her.

"Do you understand what it is I am saying?" he asked and Sophia nodded briskly, unable to speak a word. "You will then understand what I am giving you when I say you will be a maid from now on."

"A maid?" Sophia spoke quietly.

"Yes, a maid," he said with distain and disappointment in his voice. "You will be put under the command of the head maid in the castle and she will teach you."

"There is no going home, is there?" she asked, mostly rhetorical.

"No."

"Then I have no choice."

"Unless you change your mind and prefer to be my mistress instead, which means that you will have certain… duties to fulfill." He withheld a sly grin from slipping across his face.

"I can be a maid," Sophia said quickly. It was a slight relief to know that nothing worse was going to happen to her; she could take being a maid if it were her only choice… just about anything was better than sleeping with a man she didn't know.

He nodded. "Very well, you may take your leave now."

Sophia dipped a curtsy, slowly rising, then turning and leaving just as softly as she had entered. As she strode down the halls, back to her room, it felt as if several burdens had been lifted and she was somewhat free again. She could actually feel herself smile.

The Prince, on the other hand, collapsed into his chair and hung his head, his rebellious black strands falling gracefully in his face; he contemplated what he had just done.

_What have you let slip through your fingers, Vladislaus…_

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Sophia wasn't alone long before there was a hard knock at the bedroom door, and before she could even speak a word, in came a short, stout woman; she looked as if she were in her sixties, her graying hair pulled back in a bun, but not any bit the feeble type.

"You are Sophia, no?" she asked, her voice rather gruff sounding.

"Yes…"

The older lady cast a scrutinizing gaze on her. "You look a little small… but we'll get the strength out of you yet. I'm the head maid of the entire castle; nobody uses my name – just call me 'ma'am.' The Prince has put me in charge of your learning to be a maid in the castle; you are to work in the east wing only and are to obey all orders I give, _unless_ they come from someone of higher authority. You are to start your training today, but you won't go to work until tomorrow morning. Follow me; I will show you to where you are going to stay from now on and let you change into something a little better suited for work."

The woman turned on her heels and swiftly left the room, it took Sophia a minute to register in her head but by then she had stuck her head back in the room.

"Now!" she demanded. "I don't have all day!"

Sophia jumped up and hurried after the woman as she left again.

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Hours were spent fast. First, with Sophia being shown to her knew place to sleep, it wasn't personal in any way, the room being cramped, as there were only ten bunks to sleep in and she would have to share with other maids and female servants. Next, she had to change from the luxurious looking and feeling dress she was wearing to a simple gray and white uniform dress. It was far from comfortable, even more so than her old clothes, the fabric being rather stiff and scratchy. Then she was instructed on how to 'properly' do her jobs. For instance, scrubbing the stone and wood floors, oiling the furniture, gathering and putting up linens and where they would go, cleaning the fragile objects, dusting places that were complicated or hard to reach, how to get difficult stains out of rugs and tapestries, and numerous other things. Some of them were simple, others complicated, but everything done with more thoroughness and attention to the fine details than she had ever thought.

She got to know the inter workings of the castle and became more familiar with rooms and places in the east wing. There, of course, was a slight tug at her heart at the lavish living she was giving up; she wasn't the pampered type and she hadn't really had the chance to become accustomed to it, still she would miss what was every simple girl's dream.

Sophia also learned that it wasn't just the older lady (who insisted on being called 'ma'am') who was hard and tough…no, most of the other servants were the same way, like it was a solid wall until they got to know her better. It seemed like the lack of trust was her constant enemy. What was hard for her though, was when Mary found out that she would be a maid.

The poor girl appeared devastated, readily questioning what had happened over one simple night with the sincerest concern. Sophia answered, leaving out certain details, which were rather crucial and so Mary didn't understand what could have went wrong. She was exceptionally distraught when Sophia didn't seem to have any regrets about what was happening to her and she kept pressing _why_. Sophia was beginning to get the impression that in Mary's eyes, the Prince could do no wrong, and she didn't think it wise to meddle with that view. As much as it seemed to bother Mary that Sophia was now a maid, Sophia felt relieved to have someone here she knew…and she could only hope that she would get to know Mary better.

Soon the day had ended and Sophia was able to collapse into her uncomfortable bunk with exhaustion. She looked at her new way of life with an open mind; things would fall into place and she would get use to the work, plus, anything was better than being the Prince's whore. Right?

What she didn't know was that Dracula had instructed the head maid to give Sophia the most difficult and grueling tasks possible.

**000000000000000**

**Maybe Sophia should have just stuck with being his mistress; she has no clue what she is in for being a maid. And Dracula was being a real hardcore meanie at the beginning, wasn't he? I tend to think so. :P**

**Thank you's (sorry for not being able to get them to you sooner):**

**Succede51: Oh, glad you like it. Hope you are still reading, since it's taken me forever and a day to update. lol And yes, Sophia does hold her own… even if some things are harder for her to do so in (like last chapter) than others.**

**Pirate Girl: Sophia is so much fun to write! I can't tell you how much. She is amazing… trust me, I know her better than anyone else. xD Dracula has his… _moments_ in the story – some good, others, bad. I try to keep him human, with realistic feelings and emotions, but at the same time, the character that everyone loves from the movie. It can be daunting at times.**

**Anon E. Mouse: Um, wow. I've never gotten a review like yours before. I'm super flattered! –blushes- I work really hard to get even the second characters true, lifelike personalities. What is that saying, that you get most impressions of people in the first ten seconds? Well, with second characters, I try to keep that in mind (they have such small roles). I also try to make sure that – with this kind of story – it's all my characters causing the plot to get tangled up, _not_ my characters getting tangled up in the plot. Does that make sense? I'm not sure. lol Btw, I love the name. Seriously cute!**

**Sarah. M.: Awesome that you are reading! Thanks for letting me know, it means the world to me. This _is_ my baby. I'm glad I can share it with people and them like it too. I hope I continue to please!**

**Reviews are awesome! Con-crit is welcome! Flames with be doused with a cold cup of water!**


	10. Trying To Cope

**Hey guys! Okay, I've got some good news and some bad… **

**First, the good news: I'm leaving for Austria (the 30th, actually) – the music capital of the World, the birthplace of Mozart and the home of The Sound of Music!!! I'm going with my church's mission group of six teens (including me) and three adult leaders to a youth summer camp, where I will be sort of camp counselor/leader for a small group of teens. I've got a ten-hour flight to Zurich, Switzerland, then we'll get on a train (my first time on a train) and go through the Alps (how cool is that?) to Vienna, Austria. My group and I will be staying at a youth hostel there (for most of the time), and from what they've told me the view is _amazing_ – one side looks to the mountains and the other looks to the valley. Isn't that cool? And if everything goes as planned, we will also be visiting Czech one day, which, as you all should know, is where Van Helsing was filmed. I'll be on the lookout for any mysterious, shadowy figures. xD On our way back, we will take a 'sleeper train,' which is supposed to be really, _really_ nice. But I guess I'll see for myself. Um… in total, I'm going to be gone for about two weeks! Which brings me to the bad news… **

**I might be able to get Internet at the camp I'm staying at, so don't count on any updates until I get back. When I _do_, however, I plan for my updates to be on a pretty consistent basis. **

**And that's it! Just wanted to give you guys the spill of what was happening. On to the chapter…**

**0000000000000000**

The first day of _official_ work as a maid wasn't too bad for Sophia. Yes, she had gotten up at five a.m., worked a long day until eight p.m., barely had any breakfast, lunch or dinner, had been awfully tired and worn when she climbed into her bunk that night… but after it all, she was optimistic. She hadn't seen the Prince nor was forced into any compromising situations – that was a good thing. It was the second day that was more of a challenge.

She was stiff, sore and still tired when she woke up. The entire day had dragged on and on and on. And she found herself repeating in the exhaustion: "You'll get used to it." But the third day wasn't better.

Or the fourth. Or the fifth. Or even the sixth.

In what was becoming the never-ending weariness from the lack of sleep and small proportioned meals, Sophia did the same jobs, the same work. She gathered the same linens; scrubbed the same floors; dusted the same rooms; beat out the same rugs. The head maid worked her harder than a dog and the other maids and servants offered no companionship or sympathy. If fact, she was treated as an outcast by everyone except Mary. But they didn't see each other often. There were two stories going around about Sophia and why the Prince had decided to make her a maid, when from the start it was obvious he wanted her for more _personal_ reasons.

The first was that there was something wrong with her, whether physically or mentally, and that was why the Prince had 'sent her from his presence' as they would say. So naturally, they wanted nothing to do with her.

The second story was closer to the truth, but with a less kind response from those who heard and believed it. They said she had flat out refused Prince Dracula to his face. Now, although they made her out to have been very haughty and blunt with it, they didn't understand nor care to hear her side. They couldn't understand what woman in her right mind would deny the Prince, especially when he was offering so much with his money and power, and was _far_ from being ugly or fat. What any of them would do to not have to clean the castle or sleep in an uncomfortable bunk again. And there were some that only dreamed of spending one night in Prince Dracula's bed. Further, if it was her self-respect that had held her back – they hated her more. They couldn't see how sleeping with the Prince could possibly be worse than being the maids and servants they already were.

However, Sophia had always looked at things differently than most.

It seemed the only comfort she could find was in her bunk at night. She would fall asleep quickly though, from the fatigue and her growling stomach. The darkness and black of her mind was the only thing that could offer her any sort of comfort from the day's troubles, but alas, tonight was the first that was not the case…

_Sophia was starving; she hadn't been this hungry in years. _

_She sat in a chair at the end of a dining table. Before her, on the table, was a basket, with its contents wrapped in a cloth to keep it warm. With her keen sense of smell, the faint hint of the fresh-baked goods was killing her. Hastily, like someone was going to catch her, she reached out and folded the cloth over to see the bread inside the basket, and she removed a small, warm loaf. Her whole torso was aching from the rich smell and it felt like her stomach was going to collapse any minute if she didn't eat it. _

_Yet, something held her back._

_Oh, did she want it though. She turned it in her hand, the hard exterior and its uneven texture never feeling so wonderful. It was the perfect golden brown color – baked to perfection. Her stomach rumbled; she had to eat. So without holding back, she curled her fingers around the end of the loaf and dug her long nails into the crisp casing, slowly pulling a piece from the whole. Hard flakes fell on the table, as the white, fluffy center was revealed and the aromatic steam rose into the air. She inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering from the dizzying smell. Again, her stomach growled, rather loudly. _

_With hesitation, she lifted the chunk of bread to her mouth, parting her lips to take a bite, then stopped. She lowered it, eyeing the proportion and decided to tear it in half. Now the piece was barely the size of a large coin. She brought it to her mouth a second time, closing her eyes tightly, before popping it inside then snapping her jaw shut. _

_She could feel it on her tongue as it turned to something she had expected but had hoped not to happen. Immediately, she covered her mouth as the gag reflex kicked in and she part choked, part spit the strange matter into her palm. Still trying not to gag, she held out her hand. _

_Ash. Cinders and coal. Black and gray smut. _

_It was what remained in her hand of the lovely, appetizing piece of bread. She quickly shook it out of her hand by her side and coughed some, getting more out. She knew that was going to happen… just didn't want to believe it. This was denial. An act of despair._

_There was an extreme heaping of disappointment, as she looked back at the basket of bread, so misleadingly enticing._

"_Try as you may for the otherwise, it will always taste and come out the same – ash," spoke a deep, familiar voice from behind her chair. It was so very recognizable, but at the same time…not. "You know what you must do… yet you continue to deny it and grow weaker with each passing night." _

_She looked around, searching the room for the owner of the voice that she knew so well, but couldn't find him. Although she could swear he was somewhere in the nearby shadows, lurking and watching her. A smile formed on her lips and she waited for him to speak again – the sound the most beautiful thing to her ears. _

"_You must drink of the life, my dear. The crimson stream of strength and vitality… then, and only then, will you sate your hunger…" his words echoed in her head…_

The scene changed in Sophia's mind as she continued to dream more bleak, dreary things. She unknowingly tossed and turned, furrowing her brow and softly mumbling in apparent distress and torment.

She was not without an audience.

It seemed two light sleeping servants had woke to her sounds and were both whispering gossip while observing her behavior.

One scoffed. "I don't care how much more work they give her. Serves her right. You won't see me pitching in to help; I do enough around this place. The more they give her – the better, I say. It's less for us too."

"True. She is too used to the freedoms of being, well, free. This is too much for her. Mark my words… she can't handle our way of life."

**000000000000000**

**There you have it! And just fyi, Sophia's dreams DO NOT take place in any chronological order. Basically, what happened in one, might not have already happened in another. I like it better that way, mixes things up a bit. Oh, and every person who guesses correctly at who was in her dream gets a cookie!!! **

**lotr5016****: I'm glad you are enjoying it, and thanks so much for letting me know! I hope to hear from you again! **

**REVIEWS ARE AWESOME!!! **


	11. A Bruise and a Broken Spirit

**Hello, my dears! It's been too long since my last update, hasn't it? Well, I got back from Austria a few weeks ago, and I feel like I should share a little about my trip with everyone! **

**Vienna was **_**amazing**_**! If you have seen pictures in books, that's pretty much what it looks like. It's all very artsy and cultured. Most of the stores seemed pretty expensive, of course, and they had souvenir shops on nearly every corner. They also had many 'human statues.' You know, the people that dress up in full make-up and silver or gray suits and stand very, very still until some unsuspecting person like my friend goes up to take a picture with them and then they move, effectively scaring the living daylights out of that person and putting them on constant watch to make sure that even the Virgin Marys don't come off the cathedral walls. Speaking of which, St. Stephen's cathedral was freaking huge and wonderful in all its gothic (architectural) beauty. I got a real laugh out when we walked in and there was a guy on a really tall ladder vacuuming****(yes, **_**vacuuming**_**) the gold filigree stuff; there were also catacombs underground, which I completely flipped out about, but sadly, we couldn't go in because we didn't have the time. I liked the inside of St. Peter's church better though, maybe that's because there were many frescoes and amazing looking alter pieces, along with martyrs' remains in a glass coffin in the wall. **

**The camp in Aigen (Austria still) was so much fun! We stayed sorta halfway up a mountain, so we could look down on the village and the view was breathtaking (especially at night, when the houses were all lit up). For at least two hours nearly each day we went hiking and the woods reminded me so much of something out of VH. In fact, once I was listening to Evanescence's "Haunted" on a friend's mp3 player as we were walking, and I couldn't help but think, 'if Dracula stepped out of the woods right now, I wouldn't be surprised.' (Well, I would probably think I was going insane from severe lack of sleep, but that's beside the point.) The last three days we were there, it was rainy, and there was **_**so much fog**_**. Seriously, it was so thick, you could see it swirl around you. Very creepy and cool. **

**All the kids there were really nice, and about a handful of them were Romanian. I really clicked with this one Romanian girl, who, to make a long conversation we had short, not only liked vampire lit and movies, but read fanfic, and had seen VH. When we were pretty good friends, I would randomly go up to her and be like, 'I love your accent!' then start talking like her. One day, I was being exceptionally crazy and I went up behind her and (I kid you not) said, 'I vant to suck your blood!' We laughed so hard about that afterwards. **

**The 'day' we were supposed to spend in Czech (Krumau, to be specific), actually turned out to be **_**three hours**_**! I wasn't too happy about that, but, hey, what could I do? Anyway, out of all the places I went, it was definitely my favorite. It was very… 'old worldly,' I would say; like Vienna in a manner, but smaller and more… worn. It would be very easy to forget what time you were in there. The shops were also smaller, less expensive, and had a lot of handmade and antique stuff in them. I was practically in heaven. **

**Now, the whole trip I didn't see **_**a one**_** dark and mysterious figure. How disappointing. **

…**Maybe my muse kept giving them the idea I was taken. xD **

**So that was a short summary of a few places I went and things that happened. Now to what you're **_**really**_** here for… **

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Sophia was going room to room in the east wing, cleaning. She carried a bucket of water in hand, a stool in the other, and had a duster and a few rags tucked into her apron. At the moment, she was heading for one of the smaller, more secluded studies to clean. She didn't give it a second thought as she opened the door and entered without knocking. After all, the room was barely used.

"Can't you knock?!" shrieked Nedezda from within the room.

Sophia was successfully pulled from her own little world as she very nearly jumped out of her own skin. Looking over to a couch, she saw Nedezda stretched out across it and reclining against the arm, but she wasn't the only one there. The Prince sat at the opposite end, with a book in one hand and the other idly resting on Nedezda's covered legs that were positioned over his thighs. Both their eyes were on her.

"I'm sorry," Sophia stammered out. "I didn't think that there would be anyone in–"

"Just go!" Nedezda practically hissed. "And don't let it happen again!"

Sophia spun on her heels to leave.

"Stop," Dracula ordered and she turned, looking back into his crystal-blue eyes. "You may continue your work in here. So long as you are quiet, it's no trouble to me. Is that fine with you Nedezda?"

Nedezda reluctantly nodded, not willing to admit that it did.

Sophia moved back into the room and started systematically cleaning from in a corner, the one farthest away from them. She dusted off a table against the wall and wiped down the mirror above it, and then she went to a bookshelf, pulled up her stool and dusted from the highest she could reach all the way down to the very bottom. The whole time she cleaned, she could feel the heavy weight of eyes on her.

Dracula _had_ been reading to himself before Sophia entered the room, but now it took a good bit more attentiveness to focus on those white pages with scribbled writing across them. This was a battle he was losing. Whenever discretion allowed, his azure pools would glance over the top of the pages just to catch a glimpse of her working. Right now, she had her side to him and was standing on a stool, cleaning yet another shelf above her head. Even in that horrid, gray dress, she looked lovely and he was amazed at how such stiff fabric could hug her so well. It was like she had put a spell over it. He noticed she had taken to pulling her hair up in a loose bun, that he rather disliked, but thought it cute because the more she worked, the more waves fell out. There was also a smudge of something on her cheek, dust probably, seeing as how every so often she would bring the back of her hand over her forehead. Watching her work was truly making him wish things hadn't gone wrong between them.

Now, he wasn't the only one secretly watching. Nedezda was keeping observation of both him and Sophia below her semi-closed eyelids. She was pretending to be 'resting' but was really fuming at how the Prince seemed to be so intent on this silly little _maid_. She didn't understand what that child had that she didn't! But there was nothing she could do, she had already put in her opinions and had been quickly and harshly shutdown by him. His wrath was something not to be provoked. It was dangerous.

About an hour later, Sophia had finished dusting and cleaning everything imaginable. She stood back, scanning the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything; when she didn't find a thing, she turned to leave. But froze. She almost forgot the head maid wanted her to bring back the tapestries from every room to be washed. She groaned, looking at the large window dressing that had to be taken down.

It was going to be nearly impossible for her to get down… but she didn't have any choice.

She took her stool and set it under the window, then climbed up to the top step. The legs of the stool were somewhat wobbly but she had managed fine all day. This couldn't be _too_ hard… except for the fact she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the curtains.

Carefully, she began to undo the multiple pieces of fabric tied up with decorative cord. The stool shifted and she put a foot on the edge of the windowsill to keep her balance. There was a specifically tied knot that she just couldn't seem to get undone, no matter how hard she tried, and it was beginning to frustrate her. Finally, after a minute or two, she got it. But by then, the whole thing was frustrating her. She pulled and tugged trying to get the pieces apart so they would come off the wooden rod.

At this point, the Prince had long given up trying to read, too absorbed in the humor of Sophia struggling with all her might to get the curtains down. He had to withhold a chuckle at her determination as she had one foot on the window's edge and another hand on a fabric panel to keep her balance.

Still, Sophia fought and fought, that was, until the one piece suddenly came loose. The sudden release caused her to sway backwards but she caught herself, only for the wobbly stool to throw her off balance even more. She grabbed what was in reach – the curtains, as she fell back, her foot slipping from the stool, the other soon following. And she was tumbling, gravity taking hold.

Everything happened so quickly, that a split-second later, Sophia found herself flat on her back in the floor… caught up and tangled in the _entire_ window-dressing _with _the rod. She didn't move, blinking, a shocked looked in her eyes.

Nedezda burst into a fit of cackling. "Oooh… you… _stupid_… _clumsy_… _girl_!"

But she didn't laugh long when she saw the Prince, right away, move her legs off him and go to Sophia's side.

"Are you all right?" he asked with genuine concern, kneeling down beside her. "You didn't break anything, did you?"

Sophia carefully sat up, rubbing the forearm she had landed on that would surely bruise. "I don't think so," she managed out, her face immediately flushing with embarrassment and shame.

He stood and offered her a hand, which she timidly took, and he helped her stand out of the dusty curtains. "That's good," he said and then chuckled. "I believe you didn't take them down… they took _you_ down."

She forced a painful smile, before lowering her head, not being able to face him. "I-I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean–"

"It's quite alright, it was an accident," he said, tilting her chin up and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Nothing more. Though next time try to be more careful…you might really break something."

"Yes, my lord." She gently withdrew from his grasp and quickly gathered her nearby things, _including_ the much struggled over fabric panels, before hurrying out of the room.

"Have someone else get the curtains down for you today!" he called to her, shaking his head and chuckling, then returned to his seat on the couch and picked up his book.

Nedezda's dark eyes burned like a wildfire as she silently fumed.

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The rest of the day, Sophia continued with her ordinary work and taking the Prince's advice at being extra cautious when taking down the drapes. However, the embarrassment didn't leave her for one moment and even after she fell into bed, she couldn't get to sleep. She was excruciatingly sore all over, and her forearm was badly bruised…another reminder of her clumsiness. She tossed and turned, the restless time giving her a chance to replay the day over in her head. Although the fall she took was humiliating, it was her spirit that was truly broken. This was her new life. And how she hated every minute of it! Salty tears filled her eyes and she sat up, knowing if she didn't escape the claustrophobic room she was in, she would go insane.

Silently, she slipped out of her bunk, still in her white, muslin nightgown and tiptoed to the door. She opened it carefully, knowing there was a spot where the hinges creaked and she slipped out before it hit that point, closing it behind her. Looking down the halls, she knew where she wanted to go. It was risky for if she got caught, she could be punished severely, but the chance was well worth it in her mind.

She began down the candle-lit hallway, alertly turning corners and keeping an ear open for any sound of movement. Even though she knew the room she was headed for was just a little a way, she couldn't help the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.

Then a soft but unknown sound hit her ears and she ducked down beside a close table, her heart feeling like it was going to beat out of her chest. She waited for a moment, and when nothing happened she slowly stood up again.

_You're so nervous, your imagination is working overtime, _she told herself.

At last, she got to the door to the room and slipped inside. It was a parlor and, as she guessed, nobody was using it – but that was not why she wanted the room in particular. Still silent as a mouse, she crept to other side of the room, where there were two doors and opened them, revealing a gorgeous balcony.

She stepped out on it and tilted her head up, the night sky was beautiful, the stars above twinkling and shining like she had never seen them before. She moved over to the ledge, and put her hands on it, looking down. The balcony was so high that it almost made her sick to her stomach… not to mention, below was the Argeş River. It was picturesque, the moon casting its pale, white light down on the smoothly flowing water causing it to shimmer and glisten. She could hear its sound, the tranquility of it soothing her. A light breeze caressed her face and blew her hair gently. It was calling to her, whispering her name.

That's when her heart plunged.

She didn't want to be here. She hated it here. She wanted to be home with her family – but couldn't. This was her new life, her new home, and nothing would change that.

Slowly, she slid down the balcony's edge, until she was sitting on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest. She placed her head on her knees, taking in sharp breaths, trying not to cry, while her vision blurred.

_This is your life now, _she repeated in her head. _Why can't you just deal with it? You messed up. What if you had given the Prince a chance? You might not be where you are now… would it have been worth it? _She honestly couldn't answer that question now.

Warm tears began to roll down her cool cheeks as light sobs racked her body.

I just want to go home. I just want to see my mother, and father, and sister. I just want to have my life back… to be free. I'm so tired of cleaning, dusting, and working. It has only been a week… one week… and I'm already exhausted. Oh, what I would do to be free again! But that won't happen. No, it won't happen…

0000000000

Steady footfalls echoed through the silent corridors. This wasn't his territory but Dracula found solace from a day's stress in only one place… and it was at this end of the castle.

His day had been full of disappointments and frets over the realm, but what happened in the few hours he had as a break, gave him something to keep his mind sane – Sophia. The little 'acrobatics' she done, gave him quite a chuckle every now and then, but that wasn't the extent. Just seeing her face for that small amount of time offered him some sort of drive that even Nedezda couldn't give him… even if she was around for hours.

What was it about that girl? She was so common, simple, but there was just something about her… he couldn't place it. And wondered if it even mattered. Either way, there was no going back. Not a thing he could do would change the past.

For once, he wished the castle wasn't so big and the halls weren't so long.

00000000000

"I would go back," Sophia whispered to herself between sobs. "I could handle it all… anything the Prince wanted from me… as long as I didn't have pick up another rag again. But I can't go back. There is nothing I can do… nothing-"

"Sophia?" said a low voice.

After jumping from being startled, Sophia looked from her knees to the shiny, black boots that were standing nearby, her eyes quickly scanning up, over the black-clothed figure until they were met with piercing blue.

"My lord," Sophia choked out, trying to quickly stand.

"No, no, you need not stand," he told her, but she didn't listen.

Once she was on her feet, she offered a respectful curtsy and stood before him, her head facing down, not speaking a word. She was caught.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. "Are you sure that fall didn't hurt you?"

"I'm sure," she said, answering the latter question but avoiding the former.

He sensed she didn't want to talk about it, so he just turned away, putting his hands on the ledge of the balcony, his arms stretched out before him. "It's magnificent out here, isn't it?" he mused. "The night is so calming and tranquil… I almost prefer it to the day. But I enjoy the river the most and how the moon looks on it. It's as if someone placed a thousand diamonds at the bottom. I frequently come out here when I need to be alone… it appears that I'm not the only one…" he said playfully, glancing Sophia's direction, only to find fresh tears on her cheeks. "Don't cry," he spoke softly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a handkerchief then offering it to her. "Will you tell me what is bothering you so?"

Sophia took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes, before speaking up, "I couldn't sleep. I know there is nothing you can do but…" the tears began to flow more, "but I don't want to be a maid anymore. I don't want to clean anything else. Everyone is so cold and treat me like I'm an outcast. I know I'm not used to their way of life and I know I'm not any better than them… but still they treat me like I look down on them. I just can't do it anymore. I can't do it. I… just… can't." She burst into another sob, pressing the soaked handkerchief to her eyes.

Dracula didn't know what it was, but something about Sophia made him pity her. He didn't really pity Nedezda when she cried, just tolerated it. Yet, Sophia was actually tugging on his heartstrings. She was in pieces before him… and for the first time in his life, he wanted to fix something, not break it. And he thought he had an idea that just might do that.

"I know things didn't work out between us at the start, Sophia," he said softly, "but would you be willing to go back? To try again?" Sophia looked up at him, her face silently telling him to continue. "If you are willing, maybe we could start differently, get to know one another better… I won't force you in a situation you aren't comfortable with again." To humble himself so much was hard, but inside he was hoping, praying, that things would turn out for the better.

Sophia lowered her head again, thinking and contemplating over his words. She would love to never have to pick up a rag or duster and clean again, but in going back, she knew what her place would be… and the chances of being forced in the same compromising situation. Was it worth the risk? She had already made up her mind, and it wasn't her head that she was listening to, but her heart.

"I think I can try again," she said, nodding. There was a release in her words, like a burden was lifted and she was doing the right thing.

Dracula had to avoid the temptation to scoop her into his arms and kiss her since he was positively thrilled beyond reason, so he turned and looked back out to sky, a smile inching its way across his usually stern features. He almost couldn't believe she was his again. This time there was no room for error.

The two of them stood alone and quiet on the balcony for some time – the soft touch of the breeze, the woodland smell of the air, and the churning sound of the river calming them. Although, neither was ready to admit that the presence of the other's company was more enjoyable than anything else, even in the silence. They were finally getting used to being around each other… but it was getting late.

"I'm going to retire," said Dracula. "You may sleep in your former room when you are ready yourself. Can I count on seeing you tomorrow?"

She nodded a 'yes,' not all to fond of him leaving now, but happy that she was going to see him again. It perplexed her – why did she suddenly care?

"Very well then. I will leave you to your stargazing," he said slyly, walking to the doors then stopping under the arch, just before he entered. "Sophia…"

She turned, her eyes connecting with his; they were perfect mirrors of the stars… the thought made her quickly blush, recalling what he just said. "Yes?" she asked.

"Might you do me a favor?"

"Um…" was all she could get out.

"Smile for me."

His words were so sweet and genuinely warm; it didn't take much effort on Sophia's part to offer a full, lovely smile. Not to mention, she could feel her bare toes curl under – that ridiculous nervous habit.

"Thank you," he said, returning the favor only briefly before leaving her alone on the balcony.

Sophia put a hand on the ledge for support as those strange, delightful feelings made her head swim and wondrous sensations made her body tingle. Oh, how did he always manage to do that?

**000000000000000**

**Cue: AWWWWWWW! lol jk So, I'm pretty happy with the ending to this chapter – it's all mushy and crap. We also learned that along with being perpetually naïve, Sophia is pretty clumsy (I LOVED writing the scene where she falls off the stool). And Dracula ****can**** be reasonable. xD**

**Alexandra: -blushes- Thanks! I'm thrilled you enjoy it. And I hope this update was good!**

**Okay, people, you know the drill!!! **


	12. To Try Again

_**Tag**_**! (that's German for 'hi,' not the game) I hope everyone's week was nice, mine was, well… bleh. Your reviews were so, so helpful when I was feeling crappy, so an extra thank you to everyone! I got to babysit twice this week – an adorable little six-month-old named Jacob. He loves me. -happy sigh- I want to keep him. My muse decided to do something useful also, like help me **_**write**_**, so I'm feeling like my writing is coming along pretty good now. Next chapter is a crucial one, and I'm excited to write it.**

**I want to give a very, VERY special thank you to Anon E. Mouse for all the wonderful reviews and insightful and hilarious talks. In fact, you know what… I hereby dedicate this chapter **_**and**_** the next ('cause I like the next better) to you, AEM! I wish I could give you the second place Dracula takes Sophia in this chapter. It would be **_**amazing**_**. Heck, I wish I could give you Vladdykins, but I don't really -cough- own him. So this and the next chapter will have to suffice…**

**(NOTE: this chapter has some 'historical' stuff in it. I take creative license here, and if I, being the historical geek that I am, can get over it (write it?), I think you can survive. Remember this is **_**fanfiction**_**, and even the movie wasn't historically accurate (with MANY things). So, no flame me, k?) **

**000000000000000**

Dracula hadn't felt like he did now in years – a sly, scheming adolescent with nothing better to do (although being born a Prince, he always did have _something_ better to do). He was going room to room in the east wing, looking for Sophia. It reminded him of a game of hide-and-seek, only whom he was seeking didn't know she was hiding at all. He cracked a door to a spare room and saw one of the maids cleaning.

"Pardon me," he interrupted. The woman immediately spun around but didn't get a curtsy in before he spoke again. "Have you seen the Lady Sophia about of late?"

The girl shook her head and answered, "No, m'lord."

Sighing with obvious disappointment, he left the stunned maid to her cleaning again and continued down the hall. This was getting frustrating. He had already asked a handful of maids and servants and every one of them said they hadn't seen her. Where could she be?

He peaked his head into yet another sitting room, to his relief he found Mary sitting on one of the couches – where she was, Sophia would be. And a quick glance around the room told him his theory was correct, for there Sophia was, well absorbed in a bookshelf before her. Quietly, he stepped into the room, catching Mary's attention. She opened her mouth to offer him respects, but he put a finger to his lips, effectively silencing her.

The young servant watched in curiosity and amusement as he stole softly into the room. He had a rarely seen devious sparkle in his eyes and a crooked smile across his face, not to mention watching him practically _tiptoe_ into the room in heavy boots was comical. With barely a sound, he closed in on Sophia, who had not a clue he was there. He reached out gingerly and pressed two fingers into the small of her back, swiftly running them up her spine.

Sophia yelped and could have hit the ceiling in surprise but for her reflexes that spun her around. He just started laughing, the sound rolling from his throat.

"Oh, you scared me to death!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest and breathing heavy.

He regained his composure fast but still had the smuggest grin on his face. "I have been looking for you. You are quite the hard one to find," he said, chuckling. "I wanted to show you a few special rooms I think you will enjoy the use of… but under the conditions: no more formalities between us–"

"But…" Sophia started.

"No 'but's," he said, raising a hand. "I _insist_ upon it."

"All right," Sophia grumbled in defeat.

"_And_ you mustn't use a title with me anymore; you must call me by my name… Vladislaus."

Sophia's eyes widened. "Oh no, I couldn't do that… that would be… I don't know… I just…" She exhaled, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and recovered her train of thought. "I just wouldn't feel comfortable with that," she replied softly.

Now it was his turn to admit defeat; he _had_ said he wouldn't force her into anything she didn't want to do… and it seemed this was one of them. Yet, he was disappointed. He had figured by letting her call him by his first name, it would have been less distant and more personal than a formal address.

"I will respect your wishes then…" he said, his smile turning even smugger, "but _one day_ you willuse my first name."

"So be it," she said, tilting her head charmingly, a full smile coming to her dainty mouth, her honey-brown eyes glistening. She looked the picture of health since she woke up… and a stunning picture she was.

Dracula held out his arm for her to take, which she did straight away, and he led her out of the room. She gave a passing wave to Mary as they left, mouthing the words "see you later."

"So what exactly are these rooms?" she asked, as they strode down the halls. She could tell the eagerness in his step, because what was a slightly quicker pace for him was _much_ quicker for her.

"You'll have to wait and see," was his simple reply.

"Are they in the east wing?" she asked, wondering if she had perchance already seen them.

"No," he answered, glancing over at her. She opened her mouth as if to say something but before she got any chance, he spoke up, "You like asking questions, don't you?"

She laughed aloud. "I guess so," she said. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Frankly, I don't care because it is a surprise and I am not going to tell you," he said, smirking down at her.

"Hmph," she snorted, rather unladylike.

"Trust me… it is worth it," he told her, smirking knowingly.

With that said Sophia became silent. She looked at passing things in the halls they were going through, always finding something interesting, whether it be a tapestry, a painting, or some form of a sculpture but she was battling an inward struggle of purposely not looking at him. Part of her really wanted to study him, to soak in every aspect of his features and mannerisms, yet she wouldn't dare because she was scared of being caught and how embarrassing such a thing would be.

"How much further is it?" she asked, pushing her other thoughts aside.

"Not far," he answered. "Do you know where we are?"

"No."

"The north wing… my side of the castle," he told her, glancing her way for her reaction – she didn't appear daunted. That was good.

A couple more halls and a few more minutes then he stopped.

"Here we are," he said and turned to Sophia. "Do you trust me?"

"Uh… yes," was her hesitant answer.

"Then don't be alarmed," he said, taking his place by her side. Lifting his right hand, he covered her eyes and then put his left hand on her lower back, and led her carefully into the room. "Don't you dare try and peek," he warned her in a playful tone.

"I won't," she assured him. Her heart was racing wildly, in anticipation and the notion that she was blindly putting her trust in him… but mostly it was because he was so close to her, with one rough hand brushing the sensitive skin of her face and his other pressed to her lower back. She could swear she felt his body heat, carrying that aura of his that swirled around her giving her a sensory overload.

"Open your eyes," he breathed into her ear, removing his hand.

Her eyelids lifted, unveiling the room to her. She gasped in awe.

She stood in the middle of the most wondrous room she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't even look like a room at all. There were plants, flowers, vines, and small trees _everywhere. _It must have been on one of the outer edges of the castle because two walls were almost completely made up of windows, going from near the floor to the ceiling, allowing lots of natural light to stream in. The floor was of colored stone, fitting together perfectly, to make up a narrow path around the huge room.

"What is it?" Sophia asked breathlessly.

"A greenhouse," he said, watching with swelling pride that he had guessed right on what she would love. "I'm taking that you haven't seen one…"

"No," she said, moving over to climbing vines on a small trellis and curling them around her finger with delicacy and loving care. She turned back to him, grinning broadly. "It's wonderful."

He leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I am glad you think so… because it is yours."

Sophia's eyes widened. "Mine? As in everything in here?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes, everything… and anything else you would like. I'm sure anything else _you_ pick would make it more wonderful."

"Oh, is it possible to make it any more beautiful than it is?" she asked rhetorically, turning circles to take everything in.

"I'm _very_ sure you could find something. Go take a look around," he said, and watched her with rapt interest as she moved further into the room discovering all of foliage and flora. He knew she was of a gentle disposition but he had never seen her quite like this. The smile that was curved on her lips, he had never seen before – it was of an inner joy. The color in her face was soft and glowing and her eyes glittered like pure gold. She walked though the flowers, touching their petals every now and then, before stopping at a pink rosebush. Tenderly, she cupped a rose in her hand, bending her head down to take in the sweet, pungent fragrance. Her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled and he secretly found himself wishing – again – that he could wrap his arms around her and seal her lips in a fervent kiss.

"Roses are my favorite," Sophia said, startling him out of his reverie but she hadn't even looked away from the flower.

"They are most women's," he stated matter-of-factly.

"But _unlike_ most women I don't care for the way they look, I think there are other flowers more pretty, and although the smell is amazing, it's not why they are my favorite. Do you want to know why they are?"

_Because they symbolize love or maturity into womanhood,_ was his well-read guess but he just said, "Tell me."

Sophia closed her eyes as if in a long past memory. "My mother had a small bottle of perfume she's always kept safe in a drawer; it was the most expensive thing she owned. She would only wear it on special occasions, but sometimes she would take it out and let me take a smell of it… it was made of rose oil."

Dracula couldn't tell if she had pain written on her face or was just recollecting. When she opened her eyes though, he knew it was pain. She still missed her family.

"Would you care for me to show you the last thing?" he asked, hoping to take away her despair before it turned to tears.

"Sure," she said, nodding.

They left the indoor greenhouse, going down the halls once again. The room wasn't far down from where they were since it was already in the north wing.

"Ready?" said Dracula, placing his hand on the doorknob. Sophia nodded and he opened the door, allowing her to enter first.

Once inside, Sophia stood in awe in the room that was just as amazing as the other… only different. It was a huge study or library. On her left and right, straight in front of her, were two rows of tall, completely filled bookshelves. They looked about ten feet in height but were nothing compared to the high vaulted ceiling above, which could have easily been fifteen or more feet up. She went to one of the shelves and ran her fingers over the books' spines – new and worn, dark and light, titled and plain.

"What are they about?" she asked the Prince who had been quietly observing.

"Histories, military conquests and battle strategies, philosophy, religion, the arts, sciences, astronomy, medicine, trade routes, cartography, and just about anything that is worthy to put on paper is here," he told her, pressing his fingers together in a steeple form and pacing the room with leisure, while proudly admiring his_ very_ _own _vast library.

"Oh," Sophia uttered, then gave it a moment's thought prior to speaking again, "Is that all?"

Dracula stopped short in his strides, the arrogant smirk dying on his lips, and his hands nearly falling to his sides. "What do you mean?" he asked. Surely, she didn't think that his library was… _lacking_.

"None of that sounds interesting to read about to me," she said, making a face. "There aren't any… stories?"

He chuckled slightly at her charming simplicity but was also glad that she wasn't criticizing his well-prized collection of books.

"What?" she asked, flushing because she thought he was laughing at her.

"I don't think you will find many 'stories' as in lighthearted and carefree tales among these books, my dear," he said with amusement, not even realizing the doting names he was using on her. "You might find some pagan mythology to your liking though. It appears in history both the Greek and the Romans thoroughly enjoyed their amorous tales of lovers' passions, betrayals, and killings… I never cared for the like."

"What do you like reading?" Sophia questioned.

"I usually read what is most beneficial – military stratagem and histories of other countries," he answered, a thoughtful crease across his brow and a fixed look in his eye, "but if I'm reading for interests, I much prefer philosophy or studying the arts."

It was true…but many people didn't see or even care to see that side of him. The side that was deeper than battles, wars, punishment and ruling. The side that had a taste for music, art, poetry and the works of Aristotle, Plato, Socrates and other famous philosophers. He enjoyed the calming he got from the arts and the level of stretching that philosophy gave his brain. Yet, those weren't the things that brought glory and honor. It all boiled down to balance. Finding the measure between his happiness and what people expected.

"How many of these have you read?" Sophia asked, as she moved down the black, weaved rug that ran between the two rows of bookshelves.

"Almost all," said Dracula proudly, following a little ways behind her.

She reached the end of the rug and the end of the shelves, leaving her standing before a rectangular table that was horizontal to her position. Close behind it was an enormous fireplace; the marble mantel surrounding it was carved intricately and at both top corners, there were dragons – the family emblem, once more. Above the mantel was a painting, a portrait to be in fact.

The man in it was Vlad II or Vlad Dracul.

Sophia stepped around the table and craned her neck to see the larger-than-life oil painting.

"My father," Dracula noted dryly, clasping his hands behind his back and gazing up at it.

Slowly, Sophia turned back and looked at him, then at the portrait, then back him. This caught Dracula's attention.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"You don't really look like him," Sophia commented, her scrutinizing gaze still going back and forth.

"Many people say I don't. They could never find much resemblance to my father in me, more of my mother, but little of my father… something they had fretted over when I was a child," he said, his lip curling in disgust at recollecting the memories and his eyes flashed with anger. "There were always those rumors that I was illegitimate, none of which are true of course. My mother would have never done such a thing and that my father knew."

"I don't think it matters that much," Sophia said, deciding to refrain from saying that she thought he was ten times more handsome than his father.

"It does to some," he said, closing his eyes and shaking the thoughts out of his head; he needed to explain why they were here. "Sophia, do have any idea why I showed you to this library today?"

She shook her head, her light brown waves brushing her cheeks.

"I had originally planned to get you a tutor in reading and writing for once a week, but decided that it might be more beneficial to us—you, if _I _was your tutor," he said, awaiting her response.

"You?" Sophia said, blinking.

"Yes," he replied. "Would you prefer it differently?"

"I suppose not," she spoke, wondering what it would be like with him as her teacher.

"Very well," he said.

Sophia watched him with curiosity as he strode over to one of the shelves and picked up a stack of books, then brought them back to the table and dropped them on it with a loud 'thud.' He then pulled out a chair and motioned her to sit.

"Let us begin," he said.

He didn't mean for them to start at that _very moment_… did he?

The azure in his eyes seemed to dance and a much too eager smile formed on his mouth.

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**Well, Sophia, I actually think he **_**does**_**. xP He's trying so hard to redeem himself – "Your favorite thing is outside, right? Oh, good. Here's a garden… at my end of the castle. But that's not important. Heh. -ahem-" No, really, he **_**is**_** trying.**

**lotr5016: You are most welcome. Did you get my email? I hope so. Feel free to email me, I don't mind at all. Maybe we can get all fangirly and talk about how droolworthy Dracula is together. xD**

**My muse commands that you review. You wouldn't want to make the muse angry. **


	13. Lessons

**Hello, hello my dearies! **

**So, I'm curious… did anyone stand in line for hours to get Halo 3 at 12 a.m. the 25th? Or at least, know someone who did? Well, one of my brothers is a HUGE Halo fan, and my other brother and dad play the games, so we waited from about nine to a little after midnight at a GameStop to get it. I thought it would be really boring, but they had competitions going on and everything. It was slightly strange, though, because the scale was 1 girl to like 100 guys. Yeah, too much testosterone in one area – I'm surprised they didn't kill each other. :P If you don't know what Halo 3 is, let me just inform you that it is the highest grossing entertainment launch in history. It made $170m on Tuesday _alone_, beating the previous record holder, Spiderman 3, which made $151m over an entire weekend. If only the nerds would stop trying to beat each other's records and band together, then they might accomplish owning our souls. Mommy, I'm scared… **

**While we are on entertainment news, Marishka was the first to get the boot on Dancing with the Stars. Wait, did I say Marishka? I totally meant Josie Maran. Maybe it's irony: the first to go off VH, the first to go off the DwtS. Oh well. Too bad, so sad. **

**Alright. Onwards, to the chapter… **

**0000000000000000**

It was one of the first days in January – the month of fresh beginnings and new starts, a time to reflect and learn from the past but also move forward with the hope, courage and strength of a new year. And although nature lay dormant, waiting for the arrival of spring… some things had already begun to blossom and grow.

Sophia couldn't see it, but she had undergone many internal, personal changes since arriving at the castle two-and-a-half months ago. The biggest leaps and bounds had been made from the day she started taking reading and writing lessons from Dracula – eight weeks ago – up till now.

With the final release of her family and past, she had quickly adjusted to her new surroundings and over time learned to accept the castle as her new 'home.' She treated all around her with kindness and utmost respect, even the ones below her status, winning over the hearts of many people who had at first disliked her for unjust reasons. Mary had somewhat started to open up too, but _only _to her, and genuinely smiled and laughed more often. It seemed Sophia's warmth and positive spirit was rather contagious and was something everyone in the castle was enjoying.

Well, everyone _but_ Nedezda.

That woman was filled with green envy, mostly because she was forced to use all of her charms for the Prince's attention, yet Sophia got it handed to her without so much of an effort. She had nothing but ill will for Sophia and if it were her decision, she would have her banished from the castle, from the village, from _all_ of Wallachia. Unfortunately for her, however, she didn't have that power. Still, that didn't keep her from waiting for the opportune moment when she could cause Sophia to fall from her position of favor in the Prince's eyes.

Oblivious and naïve Sophia was to these battles raging about her in the castle, but that didn't mean she wasn't dealing with _any_ struggles at all, for she was already caught up in her own changing emotions and feelings. During the last few weeks her view had drastically changed of the Prince and to her own bafflement, she found the highlight of her week to be her few hours spent with him. Furthermore, she found herself waiting all week in anticipation for that one day!

This was what was on her mind as she stood in the still and quiet library; staring into the bright, warm flames of the fire, awaiting the Prince to come for her tutoring session.

How was it that she enjoyed this time so much? Was it _really_ Prince Dracula that she liked spending time with? If so, what was it about him that she couldn't get enough of? Was it that he treated her with respect now and she could have a serious conversation with him? Or was it simply his mannerisms and fine looks that she just desired to be in the presence of? Was it the beginning of true love? Or just a silly infatuation?

The sound of a creaking door came to her ears before that familiar sound of boots on stone and then carpet. She turned to see the Prince coming towards her.

"Pardon my lateness, my dear," he said, as he watched her take her seat at the table. "As you know, people _love_ to impose upon my time."

Sophia laughed for she did know. Almost every week he was late by some amount of time, but then he was the Prince and had other things more important to attend to, at least in her mind. If only she knew how important these meetings were to him.

He took a seat beside her at the table and the lesson started like it did every week.

"Did you find this week's reading to your liking?" he asked.

She pulled out the book he had given her as her reading assignment and flipped it open. It was up-to-date on the military battles won and lost by Vlad Dracul, the strategies of all, and the way he lorded over his kingdom.

"I was not too fond of it," she said frankly.

"Not too fond? Elaborate for me." He raised an eyebrow.

"It was, with all due respect, _dull_," she was sure to emphasize on the last word.

"How could it possibly be dull?" he asked, a perplexed crease across his forehead.

She shrugged. "I am not entirely sure… It was all about battle tactics, wars, and such."

"That was what the book was _intended_ to be about," he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"I _knew_ that," she said, her eyes narrowing, "but that does not mean it is any _less_ dull."

"Nevertheless, how do you find it to be dull?" he asked again, trying his hardest to see from her point of view. "It contains detailed and _accurate _accounts of the wars my father led and fought with the Muslims – the Turks in particular. How can frays and skirmishes not have _something_ interesting to them?!"

"It was not the battles, it was the way they were told," she said, watching as she confounded him even more. "It was all the formalities and strategies, there were no genuinely memorable stories or heroics within."

"If it were not for those _dull_ wars, Romania might not be what it is today. Nor would it be of the Christian faith… it would be Muslim."

"Yes, that is true, but it takes a very important or unique battle strategy for people to remember. Stories and tales, however, people will pass down from generation to generation," she said, and to his complete and utter frustration.

"Not every battle has something memorable in it!" he said, and sighed loudly.

"You are correct, which is why _that_ book was dull," she said triumphantly. She bit her bottom lip, doing her best to prevent a sly smile from forming on her pretty mouth.

"Women are impossible to please!" he announced, allowing his open hand to fall on the table loudly. He was doing his best to not mimic Sophia's face because he knew what she was getting at. They did this every so often – push each other's patience.

Her jaw dropped, more for the dramatics than real shock. "You did not… That is not true and you know it!" she snapped.

"Oh, but it is true," he said dryly, the side of his mouth twitching for want to smirk.

"No, it is not!" she cried. "Take it back!"

He chuckled at her. "I will not take it back when it _is_ true."

"But it is _NOT!_" she all but shrieked.

"Well then, prove me wrong." He couldn't help it anymore, the smirk that had been aching to get free, was released and it spread quickly, creasing his cheeks at the corners of his mouth.

"You have not done anything to give me cause to prove you wrong!"

"As I said: women are _impossible_ to please," he said, matter-of-factly.

She opened her mouth but snapped it shut – there was nothing to say, he had played a cunning argument and beat her royally.

He chuckled to her irritation and decided to stoop to her level by adding, "I win."

"Oh, you!" she cried. "You are just cross because I told you that your choice of reading was _dreadful_."

To this he just laughed even more, frustrating her further.

"One day, Vladislaus! One day when you do not expect it–…" The words died off her lips when she noticed he had suddenly stopped laughing and was staring at her with a look of disbelief. "What?" she said, guessing it was something she had said and trying to recall her words. It clicked in her head the same time he spoke in astonishment…

"You used my name."

Sophia's lips parted, as she blinked, the most dumbfounded expression on her quickly flushing face. She couldn't believe she had let that slip. It was only in the deepest recesses of her mind and the most secluded places that she ever used his name. She often used it in conversations with herself but she had always been careful around him to not use it. Although, she had pictured this moment, the first time she used it, only it was sweeter, less blunt, and less… embarrassing.

On the other hand, Dracula was nearly as shocked as Sophia. He had given up on her using his name and it had merely been a far away dream that she would. It was music to his ears, the way her melodic voice took the letters and made them dance. If only the warrior, the soldier, the commander, could muster the courage to ask her to say it again.

"Um… shall I begin my writing now?" Sophia barely got out in words.

"Yes, of course," he said hesitantly, still trying to regain his composure. Nothing shocked him… but that did.

In an awkward and uncomfortable silence, Sophia pulled out some parchment paper and a quill then started on her writing.

Dracula shook his head, pushing aside what had just transpired and began to plan and write out her assignment for the next week. Periodically he would look over to check on her work, making sure she was doing it correctly. She was usually good at it though, but sometimes she couldn't seem to figure out how to form the complexly detailed words, or at least to his standards. Much like now…

"No, no, no," he chastised her, leaning over and closer to her so he could get a better view of her writing.

"What?" she asked, lifting her quill from the paper, not even realizing she was doing something incorrectly.

"Rewrite the word, 'winter,'" he told her.

She dipped her pen in the ink and then started forming her letters with as much care as possible.

"Not satisfactory," he said. "You are struggling forming and connecting the letters. Try once more."

With a frustrated sigh, she tried again… but not to his satisfaction.

"It is still not correct."

"I do not see what is wrong with it," she snipped at him.

Without a word, he pushed his chair back and rose.

"What are you doing?" she asked, bewildered, as he came up behind her.

He rested his left hand on the table beside her, then leaned down over her and took her right hand in the firm grasp of his own. His smooth, pale face was just inches beside her head and she let out a silent, heavy and shaky breath. Was it her overactive imagination or did he smell _really_ good?

"Allow me show you," he said, the warmth of his breath tickling her ear. He positioned his long fingers over her small ones perfectly, before dipping the pen in the ink, tapping the excess off, and then beginning on the paper with smooth and flawless strokes, slowly creating words.

Sophia's heart beat faster with every letter he wrote, until he had reached the edge of the page and stopped. By then, she was dizzy as if his very presence was intoxicating. She turned her head slowly and looked at him; her expression was one of complete awe.

Straight away, he noticed her gaze on him and turned to meet it. Those perfect lips of hers were parted, looking even more enticing than ever. Lord help him if he was about to make the wrong move…. Cautiously, he leaned in, allowing her time to pull away, but she didn't. He drew closer to her, until his lips lightly brushed hers and then he stopped, waiting for her to respond to his first actions. Her eyes fluttered and she tilted her head back more, desperate for him to continue. To which he gladly complied, at last locking lips with her.

Never in his life had he been so gentle, so careful with someone. His lips barely caressed hers, giving her the feeling that he wasn't being overbearing, but she was still very unschooled with such things, so he continued, unbeknownst to her, to lead. She moaned softly into his mouth, her head falling further back and his left hand slipped up to her neck, his fingers weaving into her fine hair. The quill pen slipped from her hand to the table without so much of a sound as his fingers above entwined between hers, and she curled her fingers under, pressing them to her palm.

Their lips worked in unison, with each stroke and rock seeming to have a beat or pattern, like they were truly coming together. Soon enough though, the chaste kisses ceased, leaving them both in pleasant wonder at what just happened.

"I suppose we can conclude this week's lesson," he said quietly.

"Uh… huh," she barely got out, nodding her head.

With one unexpected and huge step, a once forbidden boundary had been broken, opening many paths to them. The only question that lingered was, were they ready to take the same one?

**0000000000000000**

**Talk about a lesson! I'd take one of those from him ANY DAY. Seriously. **

**dancinglemur: I'd totally like to see Dracula tiptoe also. I bet Mary was wondering what the heck had gotten into him. :P Exclamation points rock, btw!!! See? **

**Well, hope you liked it. If so, please review. That'll be all. xD **


	14. A Guest and Greetings

**Hi guys… **

**Okay, firstly, I want to apologize for not updating for a month and not getting review replies out like usual. I'M SORRY! Secondly, I'd like to offer a HUGE THANKS to everyone that reviewed last chapter… and everyone who has **_**ever**_** reviewed. Reviews certainly **_**do NOT **_**go unnoticed and unappreciated. You all are a huge help at times when I just want to… well, quit. But as long as I keep getting feedback, I'll keep writing. **

**Oh, I'd also like to take back everything bad I've ever said about Velkan. Seriously. And, when you are done reading (and hopefully reviewing!) this chapter, go to youtube and watch the Step Up 2: The Streets trailer (so good…) and then search for Will Kemp's Gap commercial. Loose Fit jean are da sex. **

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Sophia and Mary sat in cushioned chairs within a cozy sitting room that had four large windows lining one wall. Although it was dark outside, a faint light shone down through the clouds, intensified by the sheet of pure white snow and reflecting into the overall darkened room. A hot fire crackled nearby, and just incase that wasn't enough to keep the women from being chilly, drinks of warm ale were on a table between them. Each had a needle, thread and pieces of what would soon be shirts in their hands. They were working diligently but leisurely at making clothing for the poor.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Sophia's _incident_ with the Prince, or rather that kiss they shared unexpectedly at the end of her tutoring lesson. She couldn't seem to get it out of her head, not the kiss, but everything that seemed to surround it. All this time she had been trying her best to _really_ dislike him, yet it was becoming more of a challenge. She spent so much thought of late, trying to understand her own heart, mind, and how they worked together. She was eighteen and her heart longed to be given away and cherished by someone, and despite everything she had originally thought of him, the Prince was the one that she wished she could give it to now….

_But what are his __true__ intentions? _her mind would nag at her. _Does he really love you? Do you really love him? How do you know he won't soon grow tired of you and bring in another to fill your place? Will you still love him then? Do you even have a choice?_

"What is the matter, Miss?" Mary asked, causing Sophia to glance up at with an expression of wonder; it was as if she had read her mind. "You just looked as if you were in deep thought," she explained quickly.

"It is nothing," Sophia answered, shrugging it off and returning her attention to her work.

Mary had been around Sophia long enough to know when something was up and she had noticed her acting strange since coming from her weekly lessons with the Prince. She was positive something had happened, and although Sophia's face was more of contemplation than anything, once in a while she would smile, but then it would fade away quickly as if she feared someone finding out a secret.

"The Prince is has changed since you have been here, Miss," said Mary softly. "He used to be…" She paused, almost reconsidering her words. "Well, it does not matter how he used to be, all that matters now is that he has… _changed_. In a good way, of course."

"Oh?" Sophia didn't even look up from her needle, appearing to listen with slight unconcern, but it was quite the contrary.

"And the servants have been talking," Mary leaned in, "they have noticed how he talks to Mistress Nedezda and how he has become rather disinter– "

"What about me?" Nedezda said from the door, her personal servant standing behind her.

The color drained from Sophia's face. How did Nedezda _always_ come in at the wrong moments?

"Um…" Sophia struggled for words as Nedezda moved further into the room.

"We were just talking about how wonderful it would be for your help, m'lady," Mary offered timidly.

"Oh." Nedezda smiled eerily sweet at the two of them, and then noticed the cloth and needles in their hands. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Sewing shirts for the poor," Sophia said quickly.

"Sewing? For the poor?" Nedezda everything but rolled her eyes as she laughed mockingly at her. "Why would you do such a thing? How absurd!"

"Because I know what it is like," she answered in a low, far away voice, "to be poor."

"Mark my words, the Prince will not stand for it – you wasting your time on this… this foolish attempt to be _noble_. He already thinks the poor should be rid from his country; I doubt highly he will let you do anything for them."

"So be it," Sophia said. "Until he tells me otherwise, I shall continue. Would you care to join us?" Her voice was warm and friendly, but she preferred if Nedezda left her and Mary alone again. She didn't have any incentive to hate the woman, but she really didn't like her because she was constantly negative and Sophia could swear that the woman hated her. Although, she could understand where she was coming from if she did – she would hate someone too if they started getting the attention from the one she was infatuated with… and Nedezda was every bit obsessed with the Prince.

"We will sit, but I do not plan on wasting my energy on a lost cause," Nedezda said with a nauseating charm, taking a seat on the divan beside Sophia's chair, forcing Mary to move down so Nedezda's servant to sit nearby. "_So_, how was your tutoring lesson last night?"

Sophia's eyes shift momentarily to her direction then back to her own needle and thread. "Wonderful, as always. Why?"

"I was just curious," was Nedezda's response, but Sophia knew better. "I am presuming you have almost become accustomed to our ways here in the castle?"

"Yes."

"And you have moved beyond care for your old, _poor_ family?" she asked with a sharp tone.

"No," Sophia somewhat sighed the word. "I still miss them. I wonder daily what my sister looks like, how my mother is coping without me, and whether my father is well. But I hold onto the hope that I will see them again and that until that time, they stay well without me."

"I doubt you will see them for some time though." Nedezda's words were icy and stung Sophia like frostbite, but Nedezda wasn't ready to give her any time to think. "Anyway, the Prince told me that you two had very little of a relationship…"

The anxious mood Sophia was in about the topic shone through to her sewing, with her needle going in and out, in and out, the thread threatening to break or get tangled. Luckily though, with Sophia's skill, it didn't.

"And despite his reluctance to answer when I asked… he told me that you had not bedded him yet."

Those words caused Sophia to suddenly jab her finger with the needle. She inhaled sharply, letting her work fall to her lap as she lifted her finger closer to her face to see the damage done. A little pinpoint of blood was swelling up on her left index finger and the tip was already throbbing.

"Do you need me to get you something for that?" Mary said immediately, holding her sewing to her side, ready to drop it and help Sophia if need be.

"No, no, it is all right," Sophia said, pressing her right thumb to it so the bleeding would stop quicker.

"Why so?" Nedezda inquired.

"Huh?" Sophia looked over at her, perplexed at what she was talking about. Surely she understood what 'it is all right' meant!

"What has kept you from sleeping with him all this time?" she asked bluntly, innocent inquisitiveness masking her sheer enjoyment at watching Sophia squirm.

"Um… I… uh…" Sophia stammered, though wasn't able to finish before a loud and cold gust of wing blew in from the door that was open to the hall. Two deep and good spirited voices followed in the wake of the wind, along with the sound of heavy boots on the wood floor.

All four pairs of eyes looked to the entryway right as the Prince entered, who was quickly taken back when he saw that there were people in the room.

"Well, well… what a pleasant surprise! I was not expecting to walk in on such beautiful faces," he said, as he removed his heavy cloak, tossing it over the back of Sophia's nearby chair and then removing his gloves. His black clothing still had flakes of white snow stuck to it, and the front of his hair had a few more strands than usual falling in his face, which were also flecked with snow, giving him more of a wild look.

Following him into the room was a weatherworn and somewhat tired looking man who Sophia recognized instantly.

"Gabriel!" she almost shouted in surprise, her eyes lighting up.

"What did I tell you…" Dracula mumbled in his ear.

"Sophia… it has been a while, has it not?" Gabriel said, offering an all-out smile to her, while following the same procedure the Prince had just gone through in removing his heavy, winter articles. "I doubted you would remember my name. It seems I have been pleasantly proven wrong."

"Like usual," the Prince snickered. Gabriel elbowed him.

"I could not forget you!" Sophia exclaimed, laughing already at their brotherly antics.

"Do I not get any welcome?" Dracula teased Sophia, moving around the chair to her.

"Of course you do! What sort of welcome would you like?" Both her tone and smile were playful.

"This," he said, taking her chin in hand, bending down and planting a tender, leisurely kiss on her mouth.

When he pulled away, Sophia blinked repetitively before taking a brief glance at Nedezda beside her and noticing how she had stiffened.

"And you?" he rhetorically asked Nedezda, before giving rightful respects just so things would be fair. Although it wasn't obvious, everyone could see that there was less affection in it.

"My lord," Nedezda said, rising a hand to her nose, her face shriveling with disgust, "you smell like… outside."

Dracula and Gabriel both laughed.

"Yes, darling, I just came from outside, certainly it is natural," he said dryly, patting her knee, then moving to the fire Gabriel had just begun warming his hands at. "Gabriel has journeyed all the way from Rome… in the dead of winter. I was not about to let a little bit of snow keep me from greeting him."

"You look positively freezing," Sophia said to Gabriel. "What brought you in such cold?"

He looked over at Dracula, their eyes debating whether it would be wise to say or not.

"A visit." Dracula stated, nodding.

"And to see how you have been fairing, Miss Sophia," Gabriel said. "And you also, Mistress Nedezda," he added quickly, causing her eyes to narrow and her jaw to set.

Sophia could sense that wasn't _truly_ why he was here, but let it go to it being state matters. "I have been fairing well, thank you. And you?"

"Other than being frozen to the bone? Wonderful!"

She laughed softly at his dry humor then picked up her work and began again now that her finger had stopped bleeding.

"What is that you are making, my dear?" the Prince asked her, turning his back to the fire while rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them.

"Um, shirts… for the poor," she answered hesitantly, somewhat nervous for his response.

"I told her you would not care for the idea!" Nedezda interjected before he could get any words in. "But she refused to listen!"

The expression on his face was unreadable as he stared at Sophia, whose brown eyes with the very warmth of fall, blinked up at him, wordlessly pleading her case and whisking away his winter chill. Then he looked at Nedezda and knew she inwardly loathed Sophia being there at all. He had told her time after time, that she would have to get used to it… but still, that didn't stop her from being bitterly jealous.

"I think it is a very caring and charitable idea," he said finally to Sophia, but aimed at Nedezda, who quietly scowled at his words, "and when you have sewn as many as you would like, I will be happy to help in arranging them to get to the destinations that you wish."

Sophia's smile broadened, unknowingly giving him the best thank you that he could ask for, before returning to her needlework.

"Good Lord," he muttered.

She shifted her gaze to see what he was talking about, only to do a double take when she saw he was watching her still. "What?" she asked, looking beyond bewildered.

"Gabriel, look at this…" He pulled up a chair beside Sophia and sat down, getting not only Gabriel's attention but Nedezda's as well. His eyes fell to Sophia's small hands and fingers working with the thread, needle and cloth. "Look at how deft her fingers are," he told his friend, who was now observing too, "how quick her hands are, and how close, small and perfectly done each stitch is… I have never seen any woman with such skill with a needle before."

Hues of scarlet rushed to Sophia's cheeks at not only receiving compliments, but also because all eyes were on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come, so she gave up with a soundless sigh.

"I never noticed your fingers so dainty before," he said, leaning over the arm of her chair more and gently taking her hands from her work.

Nedezda's eyes were perilously dark; her face was flushed also, however unlike Sophia, it burned with rage and embarrassment that the Prince could so easily ignore her presence. What did Sophia have that she didn't? How could a simple girl replace _her_? Was she worth _nothing_ to him?

Dracula turned Sophia's hands over in his, examining them. Her skin was supple and smooth compared to his, which was calloused and rough with years of work. He pressed both of his hands to hers, comparing them together. Her palm fit just inside the hollow of his hand and her thin fingers were barely over half the length of his. "Your hands are perfect," he breathed in husky voice. "So soft… so small… _so absolutely perfect_…"

Once again, Sophia found herself drifting into that daze he always put her in, her eyes unable to pull away from his. She could swear her body temperature was rising; her palm, hot and moist – as was his.

Without even giving her any hint, he pulled away, sitting up straight and looking at Nedezda, who quickly averted her fiery gaze, and then looking to Gabriel, who was now facing the fire with his back turned to them._ The second time in less than a day_, he told himself.

Sophia promptly picked up her work and started yet again, trying to shake off what had just transpired, but finding that it only confused her worse than she had been earlier.

Nedezda looked over at Mary's sewing. "Give me that," she hissed, snatching it right out of her hands and then began jabbing the needle in and out, in a horrible attempt to 'sew.' Every few second she would cast a sidelong glance Dracula's direction to see if he was paying her any bit of attention.

He wasn't.

In fact, he just stood from his chair. "Gabriel, I believe we have some business to discuss," he stated then turned to Sophia and Nedezda. "Darlings, if you will excuse me." He picked up his cloak and gloves and was out the door sooner than they could conjure a word.

Gabriel quickly gathered his belongs, offered a slight tip of the head and just a, "'Day, ladies," before leaving.

Nedezda, who was utterly frustrated because the Prince hadn't paid her any notice, immediately tossed the sewing to the couch and hastily sulked after him, whining.

"But… _Vladislaus_…"

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**Nedezda is so much fun to write! Oh, just incase… back in the day (15****th**** century), having nice needlework was a sign of being well brought up. Also, the compliment on her hands was super flattering without being overly forward. Ah, I do loves me some history… **

**Omg, next chapter is fifteen! I'm so excited!! **

**Review! (I swear I'll get review replies out this time… cross my heart, hope to die.) **


	15. A Game in the Clouds

**Alright, finally, update time!**

**I don't really have anything to say… only that I hope everyone's thanksgiving and time off from school was wonderful! **

**This is one of my favorite chapters. It actually ties with eight for my very favorite I've written (so far). So, yeah, BEHOLD! **

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_"Go on," that ever-familiar voice said. _

_Sophia stepped closer to the edge of a precipice and looked down. The darkness of the night swallowed up the ground far below in sheer black and she was so high that the air almost felt damp. Strong winds blew her exceedingly long hair in her face and her dress clung to her side and whipped at her feet._

_"Anytime now," spoke the voice again, this time, with more of a pressure to it._

_Putting her right foot over the edge, she stepped… into the nothingness. She felt her stomach leap as gravity took its hold, and she plummeted, the air she was cutting through, tangling her hair and catching at her dress. She felt a cry of panic swell in her throat, seeming to choke on it, before it escaped past her lips. It nearly got lost in the sound of the wind rushing past her and she wondered if it was just a figment of her imagination that she had even screamed. To her horror she saw the ground through the clouds, not far below, and she realized how fast she was truly falling. Closer and closer and closer, she got to the hideously sharp rocks below._

_At that very moment, she felt strong arms surround her and scoop her up into a well-built chest. She craned her neck to look up at who held her, only to find that it wasn't fully a man, but a… monster. He was huge, with large, dark wings and a muscular body. His face gray colored and he had long sharp teeth; his eyes were a gentle blue and seemed out of place in such a terrifying looking being. However, surprisingly, she wasn't scared._

_One strong flap of his wings and they were shooting up and through sky again. After many, many feet, Sophia felt their speed slow, until they were just hovering above the clouds._

_"Try again," he told her._

_Before Sophia could even utter a word of objection, she was freefalling for the second time. Only this time, she looked up to see him plummeting also above her._

_"Transform, Sophia!" he cried. "Spread your wings!"_

_She couldn't think from the feelings in her stomach and head, all she could do was scream. It seemed like this fall took longer than the other, but soon the ground was in sight again and that same fear came over her as she tumbled head-over-heels. She was getting so much closer that she began to wonder if he was going to catch her or not. But before her body could be broken on the rocks, she felt his powerful grip tighten around her ankle, stopping her. Though, he didn't catch her up in his arms like she thought he would, no, with one mighty swing of his arm, she went shooting upwards… yet another time._

_"Why can you not get it?" he shouted from below her. "This is what will happen until you fly! I can do this all night… can you?"_

_"I cannot remember what to do!" she panicked aloud at the thought doing this over and over, all night, until she got it right._

_"Do not think about the logic of it, the ground, and do not try and force it – it will happen naturally. Close your eyes and become one with the sky, the clouds, and the air around you. I will be here the whole time… I will not let anything happen to you."_

_With the promise of his protection, Sophia closed her eyes tightly, her face shriveling into a grimace and her body going stiff. She felt no change… nothing… and she forced herself not to open her eyes for seconds, before she gave in, snapping them open to see exactly how close to the ground she really was. Oh God, was he going to catch her? She tried frantically to see him as she tumbled, then felt his talons wrap around her ankle and he hurled her into the sky again, a little less gentle. Her head felt dizzy as she flipped back into the wispy clouds._

_"I grow tired of this play, Sophia," he said, sighing as if bored. "Relax! Do you not trust me?"_

_She was determined to get it this time – she had to. Again, she closed her eyes, but this time, she slowly let her body relax while trying to imagine what it would be like to defy gravity, to harness the wind, to dance on the clouds, and to get as close as possible to the bright, twinkling stars in the midnight sky. Unknowingly, in that second, she changed into another form._

_"Open your eyes!" he yelled at her. "And catch the wind with your wings! It is all up to you now!"_

_Sophia opened her eyes and saw how close she was getting to the ground again… this time he wasn't going to save her. She put out her left wing and easily swooped away from the rocks below as gracefully as if she had been doing it for years. He was right – it did come naturally. With a short pull from both her wings this time, she soared into the air up to his side. His eyes were even brighter on her than usual and she could tell he was taking in her change, her new form._

_Her whole body was a silver-grayish color – toned, slim, and with the perfect amount of curves. Her wings were strikingly beautiful and one could tell the power in them easily. The only things that remained comparable to her before the change was her long, marmalade-colored hair, her eyes, some of her facial features, and, of course, her voice._

_Pulling her wings close to her body, she swept around him, then spinning through the clouds with agility, the white mist trailing behind her. She couldn't help giggle at the newfound 'skill' as she showed off for him._

_"Let us put those fledgling wings to use, shall we?" he growled mischievously at her._

_She purred flirtatiously back, but before she could do or say anything else, he lunged at her. Grabbing the edge of one of her wings, he yanked so hard that she spun completely in circles a few times, making her disoriented and giving him a head start._

_"You are 'it'!" he shouted from somewhere in the thick clouds already._

_"That is not fair!" she cried in protest, but he was gone. She took off into the vapor, trying to follow the swirling water droplets, hoping that was sign that he had been there. Her right wing felt tighter than it had before, the same one he had grabbed. "When I find you, you will be in so much trouble! I think you pulled something."_

_"You might have to punish me then," he snickered, still hidden by the cloudy veil._

_"Oh, I am going to punish you alright," she mumbled, cutting quicker through the clouds with more playful determination than before. A flash of something black caught her attention and she pressed her wings harder after it. "I am going to get you!" she teased._

_"Not unless I get you first!" came his voice, and he grabbed her foot from nowhere and took off, out of the haze and towards the stars, pulling her hissing, thrashing and laughing behind him. He pulled her so high until the air was light for her – though not for him – making her lightheaded, almost drunk really, before letting her go, then diving back down._

_She somersaulted down repeatedly and very gracelessly until she was out of the thin air where she could get her bearings back. Her wings fluttered as she hovered and scanned the sky for him. She snarled when she found him soaring around the tall, black towers she had leapt from to start with. He was going to pay. She flew down and into the closest clouds to where he was circling, hiding from his view._

_"Did you give up?" he called to her._

_Nothing. Silence. She wasn't even in sight._

_"Sophia, my dear," he teased, "tell me you didn't give up that easily."_

_From out of the clouds, she charged at him. So unexpected was he and fast was she, that he had no reaction time, and she slammed into him, pinning him to the side of the stone tower. Their wings fought the others' for space, as Sophia kept him from moving._

_"You should have seen your face!" She cackled. Barely able to keep herself from laughing so hard; she had to let him go, trying to regain her composure. She wiped the tears of laughter from her face and stopped enough to take off, flying around the tower before circling the utmost pentacle._

_"Does that mean that I am 'it' then?" he asked, smirking, from below her._

_She shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose so."_

_"Good." And in spilt-second, he was after her again. Offering her no mercy as she spiraled around the tower, trying to lose him, around statues, under arches, and through windowless rooms. His laughter and her giggles reverberated off the sleek stone into the darkness of night. Soon though, she drained of strength and he was on her tail, just waiting for the right moment to strike._

_She swooped around another statue and over a ledge, trying in one final and desperate attempt to shake him off, but he took her down with ease, both rolling through the air, before falling down on the ledge. He was perched above her, chuckling, while she panted worthless air; her hair scattered and wings sprawled out under her limp and exhausted body._

_Effortlessly, the two of them began to transform back into their human forms, neither leaving nor forgetting the slightly provocative position they were in._

_"You need more practice, darling, but you did good," he said, and then his eyes lit up that amazing blue and a smirk inched across his lips. "I think you deserve a reward, would you not agree?"_

_For the first time ever, Sophia's eyes altered into a wicked and lustrous golden hue…._

Then she woke, breathless and panting, just as she had last been in the dream. In fact, she had to look around the room to make sure it hadn't been real. The sun had just begun to rise outside her window, pouring only a tad bit of light into her room, and she pulled the covers up and over her head. She would try to forget about it and see if she could get a few more hours of sleep – her mind had to be its sharpest for she had her weekly lessons with the Prince later that evening.

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A small pep was in Sophia's walk as she made her way to the library in the north wing, she had to tell herself to slow down every so often because she was nearly at a pacing rate. Like usual, she was eager for lessons or, well, to see the Prince, but she was just beginning to come to terms that she might actually be attracted to him. It didn't take long before she was at the door to the library but something stopped her from entering: a note. She noticed it was addressed to her, so she took it down. The handwriting was in long, perfect strokes, and straight away she knew whom it was from. It said:

'My dear Sophia,

I regret to inform you that I must postpone our meeting tonight for another time. I am sorry I could not tell you personally but only last night was notified of this new… predicament. It requires my immediate attention and focus, which sadly means I do not have the time to explain. I apologize for any disappointment this causes to you and to make up for it, I have arranged something for you in the ballroom. I believe it will lighten your spirits quite a bit.

With all hope to see you very soon,

Vladislaus'

Well, that is strange, Sophia thought. She turned on her heels and headed for the ballroom. It wasn't far from the library, being that most of the large and grand rooms of the castle were in the north wing.

Arriving at the elegant double doors, she took the handle with a strange feeling of anticipation in her stomach, before pulling on it and entering quickly. Once in the large room, her eyes scanned and then fell on what was awaiting her… or whom.

Prince Dracula stood in the middle of the dance floor with his hands clasped behind his back and a mischievous grin on his face. Sophia noticed that he was lacking his usual coat and vest, opting to wear only a black, silk shirt and trousers.

"But… your note? What are you doing here? I thought you had something important to attend to?" she questioned, while moving across the floor.

He chuckled, taking a few steps towards her, closing the space between them. "Indeed, I do…. This is it."

"How is this—what are you saying?" Her eyes narrowed, giving him a skeptical gaze, more like he was crazy than up to no good.

This made him laugh all the more. "Last night I received a letter from a friend, saying he would be coming soon for a brief visit and as custom, we will have a celebration for his arrival. A ball, to be exact. It wouldn't befit if you did not know how to dance properly, so I thought we would put aside your reading and writing lessons for a later time and work on your dancing skills instead."

"How long do we have before he comes?" asked Sophia, looking doubtfully down at her own clumsy feet. Did the Prince already forget when she fell off the stool getting the curtains down?

"I do not have a confirmed date as of yet," Dracula told her, "but I would say he will be coming when the weather permits better traveling, around the first of Spring. March, perhaps?"

"I see," was all she said, her mind already swarming with the thoughts of how close they would be, one of his hands pressing into her side and the other holding her hand in a firm grip as he swept her across the dance floor in his strong arms.

"It is a good thing we have that time… most of what you need to learn is court dances, slightly harder than couple dancing, that is why I recruited some help." He motioned with his hand to the other side of the room, where Gabriel and Nedezda were standing.

Sophia was somewhat taken back at seeing them there. She hadn't noticed them the whole time she had been in the room, which made her shift uncomfortably and wonder if they were just trying to stay out of the way of the Prince's surprise, or if she had been too interested in him to honestly notice their presence. Either way, when both heard that they had been mentioned, they stepped onto the dance floor, moving gracefully toward the middle as if it was their cue. Nedezda's face was smooth, but her eyes were ablaze; Gabriel looked more or less indifferent. Sophia looked back at the Prince, feeling her eyes widen as she watched him bow low to her then rise.

"May I?" he asked, offering his hand.

She grinned broadly, nodding, and delicately placed her hand in his, putting on the airs of royalty that he made her feel like.

Thus, began her dancing lessons. Over the course of the next few hours, she would learn the basics of dance, not to mention becoming accustomed to the intimacy of their bodies together and learning to give up control and let him lead her, which for some reason, she had a very hard time doing. Dracula, once again, proved himself a marvelous teacher, despite inwardly admitting after multiple missteps of hers, which landed on his toes, that she, well, wasn't the greatest or speediest learner in the subject. However, this didn't seem to put a damper on either of their spirits, although occasionally it did put a flush on her cheeks and a kind chuckle in his throat.

The others in the room could see they both of them were enjoying themselves immensely – from the genuine laughter, unrestrained smiles, and caring, exclusive manner that they spoke to and treated one another with. These little things unknowingly betrayed their inner feelings and quickly developing relationship to those that knew them well enough.

Nedezda could barely stand it and whenever she got the opportunity, she would slip a despising glance their way. While Gabriel could also see his closest friend falling for this simple yet uniquely stunning in-her-own-way girl, and he wasn't sure what to think of it all, whether to be happy for him, alarmed at the speed of things, or even envious that he had such a remarkable girl's favor.

Regardless, none of this was ever taken notice to by Dracula or Sophia, as they were only intent on each other, and when the lesson was over, neither would admit that it took more to part than ever before.

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**There you have it. I ADORE the first part! It was one of those chapters that I actually had fun just ****writing****… I tend to like the end result better than the process getting there. xD **

**Alexandra: LOL I think Nedezda has a life—Sophia's just stealing her place. Aha. **

**Becca: Thank you muchly! **

**WTF-is-this: Well, thank you SO much for that review, overflowing with all its wisdom, logic and well thought-out constructive criticism. You astound! You amaze! You actually made me laugh. Your dry humor/sarcasm is just brilliant, to put it mildly. Since your time and energy is very, ****_very_**** precious to you, there is no real need for you to read or review again. Once more, thanks for the laughs. You made my day. **

'**kay, folks. I'm REALLY looking forward to what you have to say about this chapter, so blow me away with your awesome reviews! I love them as if they were my children… so cute… **


	16. The Truth Will Set You Free

**Whoa, people, what is this? An update? **_**Update**_**?! **

**Indeed, it is. But before everyone skips past this to read, **_**I have some very important things to say, especially about this chapter and the future of this story/my writing. **_

**I'm sure you hear this a lot, but over the past few months, I have been extremely busy. I've also had writer's block off and on, brought on by loads of stress. It would take forever to get into details and ultimately be pointless; I hope you'll understand that life happens and forgive my tardiness. Now, about the chapter…**

**Initially I had this fully written last year! Why then, you ask crossly, haven't you posted it until now? I'll tell you: I didn't think it was good enough. Even after an edit, a re-edit, and a re-re-edit, I still wasn't happy with it. Finally I had a friend look over it and we decided that the idea was a keeper, but the execution wasn't my very best. Thus began an extensive rewrite. It took me months to finish; only the skeleton remains. **

**You may very well notice that this chapter looks drastically different from my older ones. I believe my prose has really matured and my style is now something I can genuinely call "my own." This is also evident in my one-shot, **_**Le Petit Mort **_**(of which, I am quite proud). My bouts of writer's block, too, have helped strengthen me, by making me really ask myself, "Why do you write? What do you want out of it? What do you want your readers to take from it?" But there is no need to be alarmed! The idea for this story is still the same as it ever was (although, I have streamlined it a little for future chapters), but my purpose and goal for writing has changed. The only thing you should notice is a more refined story.**

**Now it would be despicable not to give credit where it is due, and I owe a great deal of credit to the fabulous Anon E. Mouse. And, seriously, you guys should too! This chapter would NOT be up if it weren't for her amazing support. Many times I threw my hands in the air and asked what the heck was I doing, but she continued to push me forward. Anyone and everyone who hasn't read any of her work needs to run—**_**run!**_**—to her stories; awesomeness awaits you, I promise. **

**Alrighty, have I kept you from reading long enough? xP See you on the other side! **

* * *

"Is there more?" Sophia asked earnestly.

"No, miss," Mary answered.

"You are absolutely certain he said nothing else?" Sophia couldn't hide the welling disappointment from displaying itself in her voice.

"Yes, miss."

Nothing. He had sent her nothing. Not a note, not an explanation, simply cold, detached, secondhand words that said he would not be available to teach her that evening. Sophia wished she could feel the graininess of paper under her fingertips and trace over his thin script. She balled her hands and felt the weight of their emptiness; had it been so easy to cast her aside for other things? Would a note have been too much trouble?

She dismissed Mary as her breakfast tossed uneasily in her stomach. She had waited all week for those lessons! She had practiced her steps every day for him! She had been so excited! Now, she wanted to throw something or she wanted to burst into tears. Or do both at the same time. The feelings surging in her were so powerful that all she could do was stand there. She didn't understand herself anymore; one moment she was filled to the brim with happiness and the next she was upset with everyone, even herself. Her mind was in chaos and she needed something familiar, something that she understood. And she knew just the place to find that peace.

Inhaling deeply, she allowed the aroma of wet soil, damp foliage and sweet-perfumed flowers to overwhelm her. The conservatory—_her_ conservatory—was a comfort. Nature didn't have to make sense; plants and flowers only knew how grow and grow and grow, and in that simple act, they produced something lavishly complex. As Sophia moved deeper into the humid room, she tried to make sense of her thoughts and emotions, which were so much like the sprawling, intertwined vines growing on the lattice against the wall.

It was ridiculous, she knew, to be angry with the Prince. Who was she but a silly, little girl? She was a nobody and he was nobility. Certainly he had better things to attend to and more refined people to spend time with. She chastised herself for even entertaining the idea that maybe, _just maybe_, she was important to him. No, she was more like a pet, on which he doted when he had time to waste. That was all. The private reading and writing lessons, the dance lessons, his gift of the conservatory, the spontaneous kiss in the library—had she read into it too much? Had she thought it was something it was not?

_Did you hope it was something it was not, Sophia? _

She scoffed aloud and distracted herself with a potted rosebush, oddly set apart from the others. It was healthy enough but small and didn't have any blooms that she could see; it was also tied with thin twine to the lattice, as if it was being trained to grow in a way it didn't wish to. She looked closer. From just under a leaf, a demure, pinkish, whirled blossom peered up at her like an unseeing eye.

"Oh, precious flower," she whispered, bending over to cup it in her hands, "it must not be your wish to grow up in here, away from the breeze and the wild. And it must be so wearisome to be all alone. I understand." With the gentlest care, she plucked it from the bush and then moved to sit on the window's edge.

Sometimes she felt so desperately alone. The castle was vast and even when she knew the Prince walked its floors or slept only walls away, she still felt isolated. Did he realize how agonizing the hours—the very _minutes_!—were between the times they spent together? Did he know that no matter how much Mary tried to distract her, she still pined for his company over that of any other? Did he ever stop and think about her, like she did him? Something ached inside of her, different but not unlike hunger pains. She looked down at her hands and found them pulling the petals off the rose fretfully.

_He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He— _

She jumped to her feet, letting the petals fall from her lap and the leftover flower slip from her fingers, to stare at her hands as if they had betrayed her. She didn't care what the Prince thought! She didn't care if he loved her! Or even if he didn't! What was the matter with her? Why was she thinking this way? It was anger she felt, not affection! She glanced around the conservatory and, for the first time, she hated it. Would he try, she wondered, to give her another when he learned how displeased she was with him? She gave a scornful laugh. She had been too forgiving, too eager to please, too captivated—but no longer. If he wanted nothing to do with her, so be it, she wanted nothing to do with him. Without a second thought, she stormed out the room.

Sophia fumed to herself and she paced the halls, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until she noticed the servants beginning to watch her anxiously. Not a minute after this initial observation, Mary found her and tried to persuade her to do something, _anything_, like sew or perhaps embroider, so that she might "keep the mind occupied." But she was sent away as quickly as she came; Sophia wanted no company. And so she continued to pace the floors as the anger she had felt began to deteriorate; filling its void was exhaustion and, once again, boredom. Soon she was rearranging and counting the flowers in any vases she saw, picking the stray threads off the tapestries, and checking the large, mahogany clock—hadn't the Prince said it came Nuremburg?—thousands of times, but its hands refused to move. Despair was setting in and she was almost to the point of returning to her room, burying her head under the pillows on her bed and crying, when she stopped in front of the doors to the library for the eleventh—or was it the twelfth?—time. Maybe she could find a book inside to occupy her for a while…

As she stepped inside the room, her pulse raced and she held her breath; could, sitting there at the desk where they did her lessons so many times, grinning boyishly as if it were merely a game she had been part of, the Prince be waiting for her?

She sighed. The unbearable silence was the only thing with her in that dark space. Disenchanted, she moved to the first bookcase and began, with faltering skill, to read the titles.

Four bookcases and nearly thirty minutes later, Sophia finally found something. Clutching the thick volume close to her, she went to sit in the chair in the corner. Tenderly, she placed the book in her lap. Its dark leather cover was faded around the edges from use and the spine crackled as she turned the cover. How many times had the Prince mentioned this book, this aged record of his ancestors? Could it be, out of his whole library, this one was his most cherished? She traced the inked letters with her fingers and imagined his hands once there. He was such a mystery still; perhaps in these pages she would find the key to unlock all his secrets. At once, she began to read.

The long passages filled with details of military stratagem soon melted away and Sophia lost herself in the midst of great battles. The book, heavy and powerful in her hand, was a sword; the inked words were like black blood on a white battlefield; every sound of a page turned rang like a war cry. The hours that had gone by so slowly spun back to a time before she even existed.

When Sophia came back to the present, the morning had slipped into the afternoon and the evening was creeping closer. Her head swam with words and images; the book told no story but it was unlike all the fairytales she had ever heard. She had been so wrong to think those histories were boring. So very wrong… She snapped the book shut and jumped to her feet. She would find the Prince. She must! To tell him how wrong she had been! To tell him how she saw things differently now! With newfound determination and the book firmly in hand, she rushed out of the room.

She knew she wasn't allowed in the north wing of the castle without permission, but she knew the Prince would have to understand. She had her reasons. The sound of a door closing from behind her made her heart skip a beat. She held her breath and listened for the sound of the Prince's boots on the stone. But it never came. Instead, she heard the brisk click of heels and the high jingle of bangles.

Nedezda.

What was _she_ doing here, Sophia wondered as she forced herself to keep walking. Was she allowed to come and go to the north wing as she pleased while Sophia was not? Or had she been given permission? Was she the reason the Prince had canceled her lessons? Sophia's jaw set and an irritable fire ignited just below the surface of her skin at the thought that, maybe, he still had Nedezda fulfill her duties as his mistress, that, maybe, he preferred her company. She kept on walking.

"Sophia!" Nedezda called. "Sophia, dear!"

Unable to avoid her, Sophia stopped and slowly turned around.

"Why on earth are you here?" With hips swaying, Nedezda sauntered over; she carried herself like some sort of goddess.

Sophia wanted to ask her the same question but only an answer tumbled treacherously from her lips. "I was looking for the Prince."

"Are you ill? Is something the matter?" Nedezda's smile flipped and her brow furrowed.

"No, of course not."

"Oh." The look on Nedezda's face was true disappointment now. "Why, then, do you wish to see him?"

"I just—" Sophia stopped and then sighed. "Do you know where he might be?"

"You can tell me. What were you going to say?"

"I would appreciate it if you simply told me if you had seen him, please."

"No," Nedezda snapped. "I have not. He has other things to attend to. Other people. Do you think, dear, that he only wishes to spend time with you and you alone? I warned you," her voice lowered, softened, "that he would grow weary of you."

"This—this was a mistake." Sophia turned on her heels and started to hurry away. She wished Nedezda's words didn't bother her as much as they did. "I will find him myself," she said over her shoulder.

She was almost to the end of the corridor when she heard Nedezda call: "Wait!" Somewhat reluctantly, she turned around.

"I know," Nedezda began, choked and then finished quickly, "I know a place where you might find him."

Sophia's heart lifted. "Please, show me," she implored.

"_Sshhh_." Nedezda glanced uneasily over her shoulder before stepping around Sophia and stalking down the hall. "Follow me."

Nedezda tread quickly but quietly, Sophia noted offhandedly. She noted also that she was being led through halls she had never been in before and down steps she had never known existed. Even if she had the mind to, she wouldn't have been able to keep all of it straight in her head; her thoughts focused only on what she was to say to the Prince when she, at last, saw him. She gripped his book tightly—nervously—with both hands.

"Here," Nedezda said, stopping. Sophia looked around the corridor, wondering if she missed something.

She hadn't.

There was nothing around, save for the two of them and a single, enormous painting. Immediately, it caught her attention.

Sophia was awed at how simultaneously stunning and horrifying the artwork was. A lofty angle showed a battlefield with hundreds—maybe even hundreds upon hundreds—of warriors in heavy, dulled armor. They brandished swords that shone red like fine rubies in the light of the sun, which was dropping into the horizon. She stepped closer to get a better look at the men's grim, worn faces; their eyes reflected indescribable horrors. Their comrades lay at their feet, in heaps, in pools of their own and their enemies' blood, which dripped down the canvas in torrents. This blood, so vivid, so immeasurable, so realistic, nearly caused Sophia to jump back, as it seemed that at any moment the crimson fluid might spill over edge of the frame.

She was shaken. The painting, she could swear, she had seen before. It was so familiar. _Too_ familiar. Yet, she was absolutely certain she had not seen this _exact_ work. Was it possible that the Prince had another painting like this one somewhere else? No, she decided immediately, she would have remembered it. She fiddled with the Prince's well-worn book in her hands, thinking. Where? _Where_?

_Of course_! No wonder the painting had caught her attention: she had just read about the very same battle it depicted. In that very moment of connection, Sophia watched as Nedezda suddenly stepped forward, grab the side of the frame with both hands, and move to wrench it from the wall.

An impulsive cry left Sophia's lips. But, to her surprise, the artwork didn't crash to the floor. Instead, it swung to the side with a low, grating sound.

"Shut up, girl!" Nedezda hissed.

The painting, it turned out, wasn't merely decorative but a camouflage for a door. Past the threshold was darkness.

Nedezda stepped inside and then, after a moment, stepped back out, producing a fat, burning candle. Without so much as a word, she snatched the Prince's book out of Sophia's hand and thrust the candle into its place. She then grabbed her by the other arm and pulled her into the dark. Sophia had not a moment to react before a stale dampness overwhelmed her senses. Her instinct was to panic and she would have, if Nedezda's dark eyes, brilliant in the candlelight, hadn't warned her to remain silent.

"Down there." Nedezda pointed to a deeper shade of black, past the beams of the light.

For the first time, staring into the oblivion, Sophia doubted her. For the first time, she was skeptical of her intentions. "Why are you helping me?" she questioned aloud.

"Because we have the same fate," Nedezda answered solemnly.

Sophia was taken aback. "And what is that?" The moment she asked, she almost wished she hadn't; she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Staring into a void, Nedezda answered with hesitance, "He will grow weary of us both, in time. We will grow cold to him and he will take another."

"No," Sophia said, knowing she spoke of the Prince. "No. He would never do such a thing; I do not believe it. He—he cares about me."

"And he once loved me!" Nedezda said, and then her voice grew soft, distant, "He said it so often, too. He would whisper it in my hair, long after our sheets had cooled and late into the night. I would lie there, barely awake, and listen to him; _'I love you, my gem, my treasure, do you know how much? There will never be another_….' And yet, here you are. And there will be another after you. And another, and another, as long as he wishes it. Can you stand aside and watch him claim to love someone other than yourself?" she asked abruptly. "Well? _Can you_?"

The words tangled up on the tip of Sophia's tongue and she stammered.

"No," Nedezda answered for her. "He will break your foolish, little heart. You silly child, how can you believe he, a prince, could truly care about you, an ordinary peasant? It's outrageous! Absurd! Has he resorted to such fanciful lies of tenderness to get you into his bed? And do you believe him?" She laughed with scorn. "A foolish, little heart for a foolish, little girl… You asked me to bring you to where you might find the Prince, and I have. Only a few passages away you will find the place where he spends much of his time. Where he keeps his _secrets_." She moved towards the door.

"Are you leaving?" Sophia croaked. Her stomach twisted nervously.

"I have other things to do than hold your hand," she said, and gave Sophia one last gleaming smile before stepping out of that secret hallway and pulling the door closed behind her.

As soon as Nedezda was gone, the silent darkness began to suffocate Sophia. She clutched the candle tighter, closed her eyes, and refocused.

Hadn't the painting been the same battle that was described in the Prince's book? Certainly it was a sign that she was going in the right direction, that she was getting closer to the Prince. That is what she wanted, of course. To find him.

She opened her eyes and had the determination to move forward.

The candlelight cast beams that barely went past the reach of her fingers; the walls and floors were gray stone and dirty; the air reeked of damp, stale filth. But she trudged deeper into the gloom. Behind her was the comfortable safety of the known, but before her was the possibility of discovery.

Secrets, Nedezda had said, this was where he kept his secrets. And, once again, Sophia's envisioned arriving in a snug, dim, candle-lit room, where she would find the Prince waiting for her. It seemed like him, to keep a little hideaway deep within the depths of the castle, far away from his duties and formalities. This was where he could be completely and totally himself. No more reservations, no more reason for hesitation. He would praise her for how clever she had been to find him and take her in his arms and kiss her on the mouth. With every step, her heart pounded faster in anticipation.

Eventually the corridor she traveled grew narrower and lower. The flat floor ceased and in its place were steep stairs that made a tight, winding spiral—a blind drop into some unfathomable abyss. One missed foothold, one moldy step, and Sophia knew she could be dead. So she stepped cautiously and pressed her hand to the inner wall for support.

Then down… down… down.

_You will find the Prince_, she reminded herself, as the steps began to feel never-ending. She had told herself that there had to be an end, that they couldn't just go on forever, but nothing helped like focusing her thoughts on the goal. _You will find the Prince. _

_You will find him. But suppose someone else has before you, _Fear prodded. _Suppose Nedezda has found another way in first._ _Suppose he keeps a whole harem down here. _Images of other women, gorgeous women, with their mouths and hands and bodies all over the Prince filled her mind. And she choked. The rank stench seemed to be growing stronger, making what tiny amount of air there was nearly impossible to breathe; slight perspiration sprung up across her brow. She, however, was resolved to continue on, to find out what, exactly, these secrets were.

Finally, she came upon a door. Small, wooden, braced by metal. There was a large, wooden bolt—the kind made to keep things in and not others out—pushed to the side. Unlocked. Not a hint of light showed from under the door or between the door and its stone frame.

Here it was. At last. Her greatest desire, beyond all things. The moment when she would finally get a glimpse of his world. She needed to know what he kept hidden away in such shadows. She needed to know everything about him there was to know. She needed to be closer to him than anyone else. She needed to know his true nature. She had to find a way into his heart. And, in that small instant of hesitation, with her fingers frozen in place just about to grasp the handle, she knew that she loved him.

She loved him in a way she had never loved anyone before. She loved him more than she ever thought possible. This final confession to herself was overwhelming; tears sprang to her eyes. How long? How long had she loved him? How long had she not realized? How long had she denied the truth? Now she could no longer deny it. She loved him. _She loved him_! The feelings inside her now were thrilling and terrifying and everything between. This was what it was like to be in love? She wasn't sure. But that was not important; what was important was that she know what was behind the door in front of her. She closed her trembling fingers around the old, worn handle, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

No stretch of the imagination prepared her for what she found.

No welcoming Prince, no Nedezda, no other mistresses, not even anything remotely resembling a hideaway, only more darkness. Only darkness, a darkness unlike the first. A profound, impenetrable black that the light of the candle could barely to pierce. It reminded Sophia of something, something buried in her memory, something on which she couldn't put her finger. There was the same stench of decay from before, only now it was much, much stronger. Whatever was the cause of it, she thought, was in the darkness beyond the door.

Everything screamed at her to turn around, to climb those stairs back to the light, to forget all that she had seen, but she couldn't. She had gone too far now. And she wasn't going to leave until she had found some clue of to why the Prince kept this chamber, in particular, so carefully hidden away.

A few cautious steps in and Sophia found herself stopped by what curiously appeared to be a suspended veil. In the candlelight, the tiny threads shimmered like fine Chinese silk, woven in intricate, delicate patterns. She lifted a hand to touch it and the material bowed and warped under her fingers; when she went to pull away, it stuck. She pulled more and then the threads snapped, and the entire thing came down. The second it fell over her head, like a restraining net or funerary shroud, she saw through the wondrous illusion she had created in her mind to the reality of that which it truly was: a spider web.

Her reaction was instantaneous. She danced around and shook her hair out like a mad woman. The thought that spiders, with their eight, hairy, little legs and tiny, glowing eyes, could be on her made her skin crawl wildly. Even after she had pulled every sticky strand out of her hair and off her dress, checked, and checked again, she couldn't stop the creeping feeling from attacking her skin. She attempted to catch her breath.

The hazy, sprawling arch of light from her candle illuminated some of the gloom, and darker shapes and forms emerged before Sophia's eyes. But one in particular caught her attention.

It was him.

Masked in a nearly opaque gloom, he stood at full height, silent, unmoving, against the far wall. She called out to him. The resounding of her own voice was the only response; he didn't even make a movement to acknowledge her presence. An irrational fear gripped her, a fear that he would disappear into the shadows. With her free hand, she pulled her skirts out of the way of her feet and ran to him.

As she speedily closed the short distance, she could see that things were not as they had appeared. The Prince was not there to throw out his arms and catch her; she lurched to a halt.

Sophia had been so filled with relief and joy, but in a single second all of that was snatched clean away. In front of her stood the object she had mistaken for the man she loved. It was no wonder why; it took the rough form of a human. Her curious fingers reached forward and touched the strange dull gray matter. She withdrew instantly with a small gasp. It was ice cold. As cold as iron.

She stumbled backwards, her head spinning as everything came crashing together. This was no sculpture, no bizarre work of art. It was a device of torture. Filled with spikes, it would impale a victim everywhere but the places to kill him, drawing out his pain and suffering. She had never seen one in the flesh before, but knew it by description. And that it had the name Iron Maiden.

What sort of place was this?

Her eyes search further for the answer. But part of her already knew it.

Along the wall—how had she missed them?—were rows and rows of chains and shackles. Something rustled beside her and she spun on her heels to see a filthy rat weaving through what looked like the bases of stripped trees. She followed them up and up and up, above her head, dreading what she knew they were, but unable to look away. Crude images assaulted her mind of the hundreds of invaders that had been impaled on the outskirts to the village; their heavy, muscular bodies that had slipped far enough down to reveal bloodstained points rising from their mouths and throats; the birds that circled over their rotting bodies and picked the flesh from bone; the putrid smell that made the bile rise up in her throat. She shuddered violently and then pushed the memory away. Beside the stakes, an almost innocent-looking stretching rack took up a large amount of space. And then more chains. Sophia could hear the blood pounding in her ears. If this was a room for torture, a dungeon, where were the ill-fated people?

Her feet moved of their own accord, dragging her away from the horrors; she backed into a wall. Tears swam in her vision and she closed her eyes and told herself not to cry. This was not what she wanted to find. Not at all. She felt something brush her arm, feather-light but heavy enough to feel through the silk of her dress. Every muscle tensed and screamed in reluctance as she turned her head to see what it was. Five mangled, bony, white fingers had encircled her arm.

She screamed.

She spun around to see a face inches away from her own. It was whiter than white, the skin clinging to bone, with lips pulled taunt over a few rotting teeth, and sunken, glassy eyes. The face of death. In a fright, she dropped her candle—her only light source—and all went black. She took off running without a second thought.

In the darkness, she could see more startling white faces appear, more hands reach for her, even as she ran. She stumbled over the grimy, uneven stones and almost tripped multiple times; she kept her hands out in front of her, feeling for anything that she might run into. The tears in her eyes now spilled over her cheeks and she cried hard. Soon—too soon—her hands hit a wall and she could barely stop her feet quickly enough to keep from hitting it. She pressed her back to the stone, knowing she had cornered herself.

Why did she have to be so curious? Why did she have to go looking for him? She always got herself into positions like this. Why couldn't she learn? Why, _why_? Her mind reeled back to years ago, when at the tender age of six, she had wandered unsupervised into the village, clamored up the mossy stones, and peered into the depths of the well. It seemed so bottomless, and yet she had stretched and stretched her stubby arm and fingers to touch _something_ of it. Rather fascinated, she hadn't realized until it was too late that her supporting hand was slipping on the slick stones. The well had begun to swallow her up, like a great monster, she thought, and only just in time, her mother had snatched her from its greedy jaws. Only, now, there was no one to save her. Her knees knocked together with every sob.

This couldn't be the handiwork of the man she knew. It couldn't be! The man she knew—and had grown to love—was attentive, thoughtful, gentle. Hadn't he said his utmost desire was to be a fair and just ruler? How could this be fair and just? How could he say one thing and then do another? Why else would he keep a place like this, hidden away beneath his private wing of the castle? Could it be possible that the same hands that held her so tenderly had also wielded such terrible things? It was as if he were once more a stranger.

She was distracted from her despair by the feel of a cool, wet substance seeping through the fabric of her shoe. She bent over and realized that the floor was much darker than the stone should be. And the air—it smelled metallic. Her heart skipped a beat. Blood. _Blood_! She was standing in a pool of someone's blood! She opened her mouth, an attempt to scream, but only a choking gurgle came out. _It is hopeless_, she thought. _I am going to die here. I am doing to die._ Her head swam and she thought she was going to faint, and then she felt a tight grip on both her arms and was pulled, face first, into a wall of solid black.

"No!" she shrieked instinctively; the sound was muffled. "No, _no_!"

She thrashed about and strained against the grip that held her fast; she succeeded in freeing her hands and began clawing and pounding into whatever mass was in front of her.

"Sophia. Sophia!" a voice boomed over her. A familiar voice; a comforting voice. "I have you. Calm down. I have you," it repeated.

Abruptly ceasing her struggle, she squinted into the darkness above her head. Could it be? She knew the sharp, angular lines of that face and those brilliant eyes.

Yes, it could. The Prince.

And now she cried a different sort of tears and pressed her face against his coat like a child hiding from some imagined monster.

Not another word was spoken as Sophia was borne from that place. She wasn't sure how long her feet shuffled or which way she was directed; she kept her eyes shut tightly the entire time, numbly allowing him to lead her. Never again did she want to see that place. When they finally stopped, he spoke.

"You can open your eyes now, darling."

The light was brighter than she expected and she flinched. It took a few blinks to focus.

"Are you hurt?" he asked softly, brushing the stubborn tears from under her eyes with his thumb.

She shook her head.

"Are you all right now?"

"Yes," she managed with a croak.

He scrutinized her face skeptically as he pried her fingers, one by one, from his coat. They were shaking. He cupped them in his own.

"Sophia," his tone was gentle still but very serious, "why were you down there?"

"I was looking for you," she answered in a small voice.

"How did you get down there? Who told you?" he demanded, and impulsively his hands tightened around Sophia's. She flinched, and only then did he realize what he was doing and loosen his grip.

She didn't answer. There was the sudden urge to cry; she hadn't meant to make him upset.

"Nedezda," he hissed resolutely, scornfully.

Sophia averted her eyes.

"It was Nedezda. Was it not?" There wasn't much of a question in his voice.

Sophia remained silent.

He nodded, apparently satisfied enough with that wordless confirmation. But then he took her chin between his fingers and turned it up so she could look into his eyes; there was no gentleness in them. "You do not go down there again. Is that understood?"

His voice chilled her to the marrow. "Yes," she said meekly.

"Good." He let go of her chin. "Now, I have someone I need to speak to."

He left her quickly, without another word. Sophia eyes inadvertently fell to the floor, to her feet, and a new dizzying wave of shock and bewilderment came over her.

There was no blood staining her shoes.

**

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**

There you have it. My update. Ahh, it feels good to FINALLY get it posted. So good.

**The original idea for this chapter was my own, but I took a lot of inspiration (especially during my struggles with the Block) from Angela Carter's **_**The Bloody Chamber. **_**An amazing read, I highly suggest it. Oh, and as an interesting note of wtfwhoa-ness: I was informed when I got the edit for this chapter (which means I wrote it without knowing!) that Vlad Tepes really did have private torture chambers in Tirgoviste. Does that mean I think like a crazy, tyrannical ruler? Uh oh… **

_**REVIEW**_**! Or I shall put you on skewers! All of you! **


	17. Not Always As It Seems

**You asked for an update, so I deliever. Aren't I generous? As for the reason for my long absence, all I can say is--life happens. **

**That'll be all. **

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Sophia didn't sleep well that night.

She had spent the remainder of the day lying as stiff and as still as a corpse on her bed. She didn't take food; she didn't take company. When, at last, the sun had set, she had slid between the sheets and waited for sleep to overcome her. But it was far away.

There was no peace knowing there was a dungeon somewhere under the floors of the castle. And for all she knew, it could stretch to under her very feet. While she lay there, on her expensive mattress, in her warm, soft sheets, with her head on a down pillow, she thought of those in the darkness that had to sleep on the cold ground or in festering hay. She had refused to eat, but they probably weren't given any food at all. They had been so pale and withered she hadn't believed they were human. Perhaps they weren't. Perhaps she had made them all up in her mind, just as she had the pool of blood.

And yet, the chamber itself had been real; of this she was certain. Nedezda had led her to it and the Prince had pulled her out of it, that was enough to quiet her doubts. But everything that had happened in that murky place seemed like a waking dream. Could it be that she had simply made it all up? The people, the instruments of torture, the blood? Could the chamber have been empty and her imagination have just run wild, like spilled ink across a scrap of paper?

She wanted to believe that. But hadn't Nedezda said that the Prince kept his "secrets" down there? And wasn't he awfully upset when he found her?

Everything told her that what she had thought she had seen had been real. Did that mean his secrets were the frightening things that he hid in that dark place, the sinister side of his nature that he kept locked away? Had she finally glimpsed the true nature of her Prince? And could she possibly love someone like that? She was in too deep now—she already did.

She fretted herself into a light, restless doze.

The morning came and was greeted with a bittersweet welcome. While Sophia was happy that the long night had ended, she felt groggy and tired; the events of the day before still weighed over her head. She didn't want to move or do anything, but timid Mary practically _insisted_ that she, at the very least, get out of bed, get dressed, and go to her favorite sitting room. Mary said it would do her good and Sophia knew she was right.

She found herself staring down at her feet as she made her way to the sitting room. It was her favorite because it had a large window with a comfortable window seat that overlooked the river. She would spend the rest of the day secluded as a penance for her horrible, horrible curiosity that had clearly angered the Prince. Her heart wasn't broken but it felt sore.

Once inside the room, she closed the door and moved around the furniture to get to the window. She folded herself up on the seat and leaned her forehead against the glass. Her breath fogged up the cool pane and then faded away.

An unexpected dull thud from within the room caused her to jump and then nearly fall off her seat. She turned to where the sound came from.

Sitting in an armchair was the Prince. His lips were pressed together and he seemed to be restraining the urge to laugh; in one hand he held a closed book. He must have sat so still, so quietly, that she had completely missed him in plain view.

She immediately realized the Prince must have ordered Mary to convince her to come to this room.

"Come hither," he said, and set the book on the table beside him.

Her heart thudded erratically as she got up and moved towards him. Just the sight of him reminded her of the day before, when he pulled her out of that wretched place, and away from all the things she thought she had seen. His look and tone had been severe when he had warned her to never go there again. No traces of that remained now, but Sophia still felt unsure and a tad frightened. The flitting, bouncing sensations in her stomach seemed undaunted, however, and wouldn't let her forget that he was the man that she had just admitted she loved. She felt quite confused and hesitated a few paces away.

"Sophia?" He leaned forward in the chair. "What is the matter?"

Her voice was high: "Nothing."

"Are you ill?"

"No."

"Well, then, at least come sit." He held a hand out to her. "You look as white as a sheet; I would not want you to faint."

She did feel slightly dizzy and her legs were like pudding. But she still didn't move.

He sighed, rose from his seat, and closed the space between them. He took her face between his hands. "Tell me, what is troubling you?"

Involuntarily, she shuddered and turned her face away. She didn't know whether she felt pleasure or fear at his touch.

"What is wrong?" he asked, shocked. "Are you afraid of me? What have I done?" He let go of her face. "What, you fear me now? Is that it?" For a moment, he studied her expression. "You do. I can see it plainly in your eyes. You are afraid of what you saw."

His voice had a cold bite to it. "Do you think me a bad man?"

Sophia flinched. "I do not wish you to be."

"_Wish_!" he exclaimed and began to pace. "You speak as if you already have your mind made up." He stopped and turned to her again. "What precisely do you think you saw?"

"I am not sure," she answered in a quiet tone. Still, she couldn't look at him.

"That is not good enough."

"I—I saw a rack, and an Iron Maiden, and stakes."

"Did you now?" he said softly. His eyes appeared to gleam.

"And people; at least, I think—I think they were. They were pale, and looked like skeletons, and one touched my arm. And—and there was blood, on the ground, at my feet. I was standing in it. I thought…"

"You do not sound so sure," he said, now staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He was as unmoving as a mountain.

"I could feel it." She swallowed hard. "The blood, I mean. But when I looked at my shoes later—there was nothing there."

"I see."

He said nothing else and an uncomfortable silence followed in its wake. Sophia wished she could see his face, wished to see if there was a hint to what he was thinking. Her dress rustled loudly in the tense air as she shifted the weight of her foot to the other.

"Under my very feet," she spoke at last. "All those people… Vladislaus, _why_?"

"You know nothing of which you speak," he spat. He rounded and grabbed her by the shoulders before she could blink twice; he shook her a little, as if he was trying to get the message through, while the words flew from his mouth. "Nothing! Do you understand? _Nothing_! There is a dungeon, yes. But it is not what it looks like. It is not used. It has not been used in nearly a hundred years. It is empty. _Empty_! There are certainly not any people in it. Do you understand what I am saying, Sophia?"

"That I am either lying," she said barely above a whisper, "or I am going mad."

"No," he corrected her in a tone one would use to correct a naughty child. "You are being foolish. Am I not a just ruler? Am I not fair? How could you believe me capable of such things? You are absurd, Sophia. Entirely absurd. I believed you smarter than that. You are thinking just like a superstitious peasant!"

"I am not!" she cried, eyes filling instantly with tears.

"You know me, Sophia. How could you think that? Is it in your blood? Will you _always_ think like them?"

"No, no!"

"I have given you _the world_. And this is what I get in return? Broken trust and your fear?"

"No..." She brushed the tears from her eyes before they could fall. "No, no, no."

"Why then?" he questioned, seething.

"Nedezda said--"

"And you believed her, so you went to look for yourself, is that it?"

"No, I went looking for _you_. I just wanted to find _you_. That is why I went down there; Nedezda said I would find you. I just did not expect..." She didn't finish her sentence.

"Things are not always as they seem, Sophia."

"Maybe I _am_ foolish." The urge to cry was becoming overwhelming. "After all, I am just a superstitious peasant."

He sighed. "Nedezda only meant to frighten you. And you were trusting enough to believe her." He shook his head and then spoke again in a gentle manner. "Can you not see how jealous she is of you?"

"I do not see why," Sophia said indignantly; it was only a partial truth. Nedezda _had_ been in that place longer and _was_ the Prince's mistress, but Sophia wasn't blind to how he treated her with cold detachment. She knew she stood between them and, although she wasn't convinced it was entirely her fault the Prince didn't care much for Nedezda much anymore, she couldn't help but feel a little smug.

As if emphasizing the point, he ran a finger delicately, tenderly along her jaw. His eyes were now as cool and calm as a sky after a storm.

Her heart gave a lurch. She hoped he couldn't see right through her.

"Indeed, that explains what happened," he said sweetly. "She led you to believe something and you, in your mind, made it come to be."

It made sense to her. Too much sense. But he looked so earnest and he had never lied to her before. She wanted to believe him. He tugged her gently to the armchair and sat back down. She didn't resist when he propped her up on his knee and circled her waist with his arms. She felt safe there; how quickly she had forgotten. Maybe he was right, maybe he told the truth after all.

"My silly, over-imaginative Sophia," he said, chuckling, "you made it all up in your head."

"In my head," she echoed distantly, allowing it to soak in.

"All in your head," he whispered back and kissed her shoulder through the silk of her dress. "But, Sophia?"

"Hm?" She turned to look at him, dazed.

He spoke gravely, "It would be best if you did not speak of any of this again."

"Yes. Of course," she said with some hesitance. "If that is what you want."

"It is." The lines in his face smoothed over. "It is what I want…"

And then Sophia saw it as it happened: his entire countenance changed. His eyes glinted with an intense fever and he stared at her, she thought, as if she were something he wanted to devour. His grip tightened and she could feel all ten tips of his fingers pressing into her stomach and her hip. She was instantly breathless.

His face drew closer to her own and every muscle in her body held perfectly still, waiting, anticipating. He hesitated; he must have felt her reaction. They were so close.

"May I kiss you?" he asked in a whisper.

She nodded slowly, granting him permission. If he didn't, she would surely go mad.

That was all it took. His mouth came down over hers with force. His lips were as hard as they were soft and he seemed to kiss her as if his very life depended on it. Immediately, she forgot everything; her fears and misgivings, his stern words merely seconds before, the haunting images that were in her mind, all of it—gone. She could think of nothing else but the avid workings of his mouth. He ran his tongue, fiery and smooth, along her lower lip, before breaching those defenses and taking all that she offered. And then some more.

The sacking of Troy hadn't been easier.

Something deep within her stirred, stretched, and moved for the very first time. What was this feeling? It spread just beneath the surface of her skin, from her stomach, over her breasts, between her thighs, to her lips and further, like a wildfire. It took control of her mind and she found her lips moving with and against his in an inflamed frenzy. Her tongue swept against his, tasting and teasing. If felt wicked and filthy—this type of kissing simply had to be a sin—but at the same time, it felt so absolutely perfect.

She whimpered urgently when he pulled away. But then he continued down the side of her neck. He nipped at the taunt, sensitive skin and left it red and hot. Desperate for more, she twisted around in his lap, all but straddling him in the chair. She didn't care; she wanted him more than anything. He shoved down the sleeved of her dress, exposing the edge of her shoulder, the top of her arm, and the swell of her breast. She let her head fall back and breathed heavily as the hands on her back pressed her to him.

His scorching mouth moved down, down, down… She gasped. So close to tender flesh; he was so close. She could feel it building, that same intense feeling. She wanted his mouth—his teeth, his tongue—on that skin just below the trim of her dress. Her fingers grasped the back of his head, urging him on. She could feel the curve of his lips as he smirked and then his eyes found hers. He looked altogether devilish.

"What is this?"

Sophia's head whipped around to the door; the Prince lifted his face from her cleavage. Standing just inside the room, with a wide-eyed, shocked, and furious expression, was Nedezda.

"What is this?" she repeated, her voice rising. "What is going on here?"

The intoxicated haze Sophia had been in was now gone. Quickly, she removed herself from within the Prince's possession and stepped behind the tall back of the chair. Heat and color flooded her face; she could feel her pulsating and swollen lips. She hoped it didn't appear too scandalous.

"Is there something you want, Nedezda?" the Prince asked in an annoyed and disdainful tone. If he had been surprised to see her, he certainly didn't show it.

Nedezda seemed to rattle with the anger, hatred, betrayal, sadness, and shock that radiated off of her. Words failed her. But then, ignoring the Prince, she found her voice.

"You," she zeroed in on Sophia, "I helped you, and this is how you repay me? This is the sort of thanks I get? I knew better. I knew I should not have helped you. You are nothing but manipulative and deceitful peasant _swine_!" She took a sudden, threatening step forward.

Sophia moved further behind the Prince's chair. Nedezda's eyes were ablaze, but that wasn't the only thing that Sophia noticed. They were red and puffy, the same as hers looked after a long night full of tears. Had she been crying? The Prince had been angry with her yesterday. Sophia guessed he had said some things she didn't like. Good, she deserved it; she had only led her to that place yesterday to get her into trouble. She deserved it. But then Nedezda turned up her nose, still quivering with anger, and the light hit her differently. Nestled in the hollow of her cheek was a very faint, very light spot of bluish-purple.

It was about the size of the Prince's hand.

Sophia blinked; Nedezda moved. And it was gone.

"Are you finished?" The Prince remained sitting idly in the chair.

Nedezda turned on him. "You led me to believe there was nothing between going on. That she was _too_ _chaste_ and _too pure_ and _too innocent_. She even looks it! How can those doe eyes not be innocent? And yet—ha!—here she is, all over you like some _common_ _whore_!"

Those words stung Sophia; she flinched. She wished that she could sink into the stones of the floor and disappear.

"That is more than enough," the Prince snapped, rising quickly.

"How long, Vladislaus, have you been keeping this charade?" she asked, more softly. A true question.

"Do not be a fool. There has been no such thing," he responded icily. "I think it is time for you to take your leave."

"Did you mean any of those things you once said to me?" Her voice was softer, lower still.

"You are truly trying my patience, Nedezda. Go _now_." It was a solid order. And it was obvious he expected to be obeyed.

In that instant, all emotion left her face and she was once again that striking, strong, composed figure. Her voice countered his. "I want her gone."

"That is not possible. I said—"

"_I want her gone, Vladislaus_!"

"I said you are to leave us!"

As the words left his mouth, the Prince crossed the room, grabbed Nedezda's arm at the elbow and then blotted her out of Sophia's view with his large frame. He bent his head to her ear. Sophia clutched the back of the chair from support and strained to hear what the Prince was saying. She couldn't hear distinct words, but she could hear his voice. It reminded her of the ominous and intimidating sound of far away thunder.

He stepped back. Nedezda's face looked a few shades paler and her lips were pursed. She stood unmoving for a moment before casting a quick, loathing glance at Sophia and then left without a word. The brass handle let out a loud clang behind her.

The Prince sighed.

"What did you say to her?" Sophia asked from behind the chair.

"I told her she was being insufferable and I would not tolerate the rude remarks or the way in which she spoke, and that she was to leave," he said unhappily. "Please, Sophia, I wish you would not look at me in that manner. And come out from behind that chair. You act as if I have done something dreadful."

Slowly she went to him and he gathered her close. He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead and corner of her mouth. Nedezda's outraged face flashed before her eyes.

"No… I cannot." She pulled away.

If Nedezda had been five minutes later, what then would she have walked in on? Sophia cringed at the thought. She had been too careless, and she couldn't afford to be so again. _We have the same fate, _Nedezda had said_—_no, Sophia wouldn't let that happen. She would not be the Prince's whore, only to be tossed aside when someone else came along. He treated her with some respect now and she wouldn't lose that. She couldn't forget herself; she couldn't lose control. But he made her stomach knot up and the places where he left kisses tingled.

"I really should go," she said.

The Prince didn't say anything, but nodded very solemnly. He didn't look angry, maybe disappointed, but at least not angry. She could not bear it if he were angry with her. She excused herself and hurried down the hall.

Back in her room, she had come full circle and was more confused than she had been at the start. She struggled out of her dress before crawling into bed in only her shift and curling up around a pillow. She retreated into her mind—here, it was always safe, always private—and tried to remember the feel of his lips against her own.

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